Salvation and Damnation
by Nena Karnf
Summary: A full and detailed story following the events between Aliyah and Truth and Consequences, from the moment Ziva stays in Israel to her rescue and her recovery. As Ziva struggles to adjust back to normal life, and mend the relationships of those closest to her, she is still haunted by the demons in Somalia. Completely within the real NCIS storylines. (PTSD Somalia Story)
1. Chapter One- Separation

_Author's Note: Hello wonderful readers, I will try to make this brief. Firstly warnings for: adult language, explicit violence, torture scenes, PTSD, implied/vaguely written sexual assault. In summary use your common sense, this story is about Ziva rejoining Mossad, her mission to Somalia, her imprisonment, her rescue and her recovery. Think about what most likely happened in Somalia, that is what I have written. I have tried not to write the most sensitive subjects in detail, but sometimes it is unavoidable. A note on the Hebrew, it would be a waste not to use my knowledge of the Hebrew language in a story featuring Israel and Israelis, but I will try to limit it. I will either use it in a way that context makes it clear what is said, or add translations. I sincerely hope you like this, I have been writing in since last November! It is a complete re-write of my two previous Somalia stories, better, longer, and in more detail. I'm a sensitive author, so please review to let me know how I'm doing. Also if you log in when you review, I do take the time to answer all reviews with questions or just to say thank you._

* * *

 **Chapter One- Separation**

* * *

 _sep·a·ra·tion_  
 _ˌsepəˈrāSH(ə)n/_  
 _noun  
noun: **separation  
** **1**._  
 _the action or state of moving or being moved apart._  
 _"the damage that might arise from the separation of parents and children"_  
 _synonyms: disconnection, detachment, severance, dissociation, disunion, disaffiliation,segregation, partition_

* * *

The cars pulled up on the cold tarmac landing strip, and they emerged into the fierce Israeli wind before grabbing their bags. Tony and Gibbs in one car, Ziva, Vance and Eli in another. Ziva stood still for a moment as she watched them all walk away, needing a moment to gather her thoughts. The wind howled quietly, almost like weeping. She could not hear the conversation but watched as her father, Eli, gratefully accepted something from Vance, was it an SD card? She did not know nor care. She pretended to busy herself with unloading her back but watched from the corner of her eye, Eli pocketed the item and they stood still for a second. Vance shook his hand and got on the plane. Ziva never fully understood the relationship between them, she didn't ask as at Mossad you do not ask, you do what you are told and you follow the orders that you are given. Eli threw a glance at Ziva before he sauntered back to the car, she glanced over at Gibbs who had just slung his bag over his shoulder ready to board the American aircraft. Eli and Gibbs stared at each other, it was serious and full of subtext but it could not be called a glare, they held it for a moment both walking in opposite directions. Ziva knew that Gibbs judged Eli, and probably hated him a little too, most likely because of how similar they were. They both had rules to live by, Eli's were just a little more questionable than Gibbs', like his morals.

"Gibbs!" Ziva shouting running over to join him, her father watched curiously from the car as he slipped on his sunglasses, perhaps to make his interest less evident. It was sunny, but not enough to need sunglasses, if anything a wind-breaker would've been more necessary.  
"Plane leaves in five minutes, Ziva." His stone face showed no emotion, no matter how hard Ziva tried to read him.  
"Not without us it doesn't." She replied bluntly, Gibbs knew she was right. Not without him anyway.  
"I think it is best if I simply speak from the heart." She looked him in the eye, trying to ignore the stray hairs that the wind forced over her face. Speaking from the heart is never an easy thing, especially for her, and especially to Gibbs.  
"Well yeah," Gibbs nodded, "Usually is." He was trying his best to sound apathetic, disinterested like he wasn't concerned for what she was about to say, his face was a mask, A stone mask.  
"It's Tony." She brushed a hair from over her eyes and continued. "I am still not convinced that he has been about Michael's…" She could not bring herself to call him that any more, it is too personal. "Rivkin's shooting." Though she tried to shake the thoughts from her head, the image of his bloody body flashed before her. She could still feel his blood on her hands, her clothes stained with his life.  
"He gave you his word." Gibbs would never doubt Tony for a second, though it was no secret they both disliked Rivkin, Tony more so, he would never have killed him without just cause.  
"I am not sure that we can we can work together. Perhaps it is best if one us...is transferred to another team." Gibbs' face immediately made her regret her honesty. He cocked an eyebrow.  
"Transferred?" Ziva didn't know what to say to explain, she didn't want to leave NCIS but at the same time she could not work with DiNozzo. Their team dynamic had been ruined, no more witty banter in the midst of drama, no more jokes and sexual innuendo. It had all vanished the moment she heard the gunshots from her apartment  
"I need to be able to trust the people that I work with. I know you, more than anyone, understands that." Ziva said as she thought back to the beginning of it all…

 _Ziva raced the streets in her mini ignoring the angry drivers beeping horns. She barely ever hit another car anyway, drive fast, move when things are in the way. Simple. She pressed the call button for Hadar and put it on speakerphone. Immediately she was re-directed to the switchboard.  
_ " _I need to speak to Officer Hadar. Now!" She turned another corner and cursed at the traffic. Michael was at her apartment, but he needed to leave soon, for his own good.  
_ " _Please authenticate." An unknown man asked her. She swerved to avoid another car.  
_ " _Mossad Officer, Ziva David. Authentication code, GIMMEL VAV CHET SHIN." She drove straight till she hit a red light.  
_ " _Shalom Officer David." Hadar said formally, Ziva's call having been put through.  
_ " _We need a forced extraction, now." She said getting straight to the point.  
_ " _Target?"  
_ " _Michael."  
_ " _Rivkin? Have you notified your father?" Hadar asked concerned, he does not want to go behind the Director's back especially with his daughter.  
_ " _I'm notifying you." She raised her voice slightly to convey authority. "Who do we have in the area?"  
_ " _How bad?" Ziva ignored his question, glancing around at the traffic.  
_ " _Who do we have?" She repeated annoyed.  
_ " _I will handle it." Ziva did not like the sound of that but it was the best she was going to get and it would keep Michael safe._

" _He is at my apartment, I will make sure he stays there." The light turned green finally and she sped off towards her home.  
_ " _Someone will be sent." Hadar hung up and Ziva turned onto her street before haphazardly 'parking'.  
_ _She climbed out of her mini and froze at seeing Tony's car, a million questions raced through her mind but they were halted at the sounds of crashing. She looked up to her window and through the curtains she could see the silhouettes struggling. Another crash, followed by a man's grunt that sounded Michael. She raced up the stairs and less than seconds from her door she heard three gunshots in close succession. She pulled her gun from the holster and opened the door. Unable to comprehend the image before her she continued to aim her gun at Tony who had his gun pointed at her also. Ziva took it all in and saw Michael lying face down on the floor, she holstered her gun and Tony sat up and moved away. She paid him no attention, but focussed on Rivkin who was shot, bleeding, dying. She rolled him over and Michael wheezed.  
_ " _Oh my god…" She gasped at the sight, he'd coughed up blood, his chest was soaked with it, everywhere around him too. Quickly she placed her hands on his chest and applied pressure to try and stop the bleeding. It was useless.  
_ " _Come on Michael." She ordered him. He raised his hand and gripped her wrist.  
_ " _Ziva…" He raised his head slightly to look at her face. "I'm sorry." He continued to cough and wheeze. She spun her head round to Tony who was sat clutching his arm.  
_ " _Call an ambulance!" She yelled angrily, Tony had never heard her use that tone of voice with him before. It was obvious whose side she was on and Tony would never convince her otherwise. "NOW!" She screamed at him. Tony looked at her in shock and rage, she did not care at all that he was injured, she had not even noticed. It was all about Michael. "Stay with me, come on…"_

Gibbs glanced at Eli and back to Ziva, her face is filled with sadness, but also a tiny bit of hope. The hope he would sadly have to crush, he could not choose, she had already chosen for him by asking. He leans in and kisses her on the cheek, for a second she is confused and pulls away.  
"Take care of yourself." Eli smiles and gets into the car, as Gibbs boards the plane. She still had time, she could run after Gibbs and apologise, but she would not do that. She could not. The words echo in her head as she watches him sit down on the military aircraft.  
"One short?" She hears Tony ask casually, clearly he did not care either. She had lost everyone, Gibbs, Tony, Michael. Three more names to add to her ever growing list.  
"Good to go." Gibbs shouts at the crew member and the door to the plane is closed. The engines were loud and unrelenting, it deafened her. The plane lifted from the tarmac and Ziva watched sadly as her life faded before her eyes. The military aircraft grew smaller in the sky as the people she considered to be her friends disappeared. The wind swept her hair over her face, but through the wild mane she saw her father smile knowing he had his daughter back. It was, as her father had called it, her Aliyah.  
She was home but at the same time she was not, NCIS had been her home for several years and it would be a challenge to return to Mossad. She had never been one to back down from a challenge, and perhaps it was best, she still did not know the truth about Rivkin. Tony had clearly been jealous, and it wouldn't be the first time he had done something questionable, and even if his report had been true he did not have to shoot Michael. Her Michael. An image flashed before her mind, the blue and white spread across his metal coffin, the flag they had given to her after he was buried. She did not want it, it only served as a reminder, and practically speaking, what was she supposed to do with an oversized Israeli flag? The plane had completely gone now, covered by the clouds in the Tel-Aviv sky, "Lehitraot…" she said whispering goodbye. Ultimately it had been her decision, her fault, the moment she asked Gibbs to choose. She knew he would not choose her, and yet only five minutes before she had asked him to do that...

Ziva walked over and got into the car, Eli had opted to drive so she clambered into the passenger seat and the Mossad operative drove the other car back for them. The journey was silent. Until then she had never understood the phrase 'deafening silence'. It was clear Eli wanted to say things but was holding it back. He was afraid of hurting her, he knew she would be delicate because of them leaving. She stared out the window watching Tel-Aviv roll by, the heat, the noise, everything she associated with home. Though she hadn't grown up in Tel-Aviv, she still considered it to be a home, it was the true place she was raised. When her mother and father separated, Eli left and, Tali, and her lived with her mother. Rivka was a kind, beautiful, woman, all of her qualities which were passed onto Talia. Ziva however seemed to have inherited the best qualities of her mother like Talia, but they were sadly dominated by her father's cruel genetic contributions. When Talia, and Ziva lived with their mother they rarely saw Eli until the time came when Ziva had enough. She refused to be apart from her father any longer and went to join Mossad, just like Ari had. Ari had been much older than her, and in Mossad for several years before yet she was promoted ahead of him. Though she out-ranked him as his control officer, she always looked to him for guidance. It seemed strange to look back and reflect on how much faith she used to have in Ari. Her brother. Who she shot. She shook her head as if to shake the thoughts from her head and opened the window to feel the cool Israeli breeze that somehow managed to make her forget everything.

Eli didn't need to show ID at the gates, he was the Director of Mossad, the guard however did take note of Ziva's presence. Not vocally but the look was clear confusion. Eli wasn't dim, he knew there was talk in Mossad especially about his family since Ari. A constant murmur of chatter about his 'American daughter' roamed the halls, but now she was back the murmur would be immensely worse. He drove right past the checkpoint and they parked in the underground car park. Eli opened her door for her, a kind gesture, but odd.  
"Toda." She thanked him in their native tongue. He smiled at her before opening his mouth, he closed it again, unsure of what to say.  
"Ziva.." He said quietly locking the car.  
"Aba?" Father. It felt odd to call him that, their affection for each other was complicated at the best time, but now...Well it would not be easy.  
"Bo'i iti." He said in Hebrew, swallowing his words, gesturing her to follow, he lead them both up towards his office. The walk only took a few minutes, they took the elevator instead of the lift, Eli's office was of course on the top floor. He was the top. Eli opened the door and she followed in after him and looked in surprise at the man already occupying in the office.  
"I asked him to wait for us," Eli explained in Hebrew. To Ziva it was odd to hear so much of her native language having been in America for years. "I have information for both of you regarding your next mission. Sit." He orders Ziva as if she is a child and she glares before remembering her place. Bother officers look up at Eli and wait for him to continue. "For years now Mossad has been tracking Saleem Ulman, the man responsible for the deaths of many innocent civilians in Israel, and some of our own people." Ziva knew his name, she cursed it each night before she went to bed. For all intents and purposes he had killed her sister, Talia. Whilst he was not Hamas, he provided the bomb, he orchestrated the whole event. 116 dead, but only one she cared about. She had been there when the blast went off, along with several other Mossad officers...

" _TALI!" She shouted pushing her way through the people not caring if she hurt anyone. Where was she? Ziva should have never allowed it, to travel on her own, she may have been 16 but she had the innocence and naivety of a 6 year old. There was chaos all around her, the police tried to calm the crowds but the people stampeded away from the bus station for fear of their lives. The bomb threat was real, and so was the terror. She climbed up on a chair desperately trying to spot her sister amongst the blur. Tali had been getting the bus to visit Ziva, Eli and Ari in Tel-Aviv as she was still living with their Ima at that time. Rivka had said it was fine, that Talia could handle getting a bus by herself as long as Ziva met her when she got off. Across the crowds she saw the Mossad searching bags, but at that moment she was not with Mossad so she did not offer to help. All that mattered was her sister. In the corner of her eyes she spotted her, Tali's face was partly covered by her long wavy hair but Ziva was certain. Tali stood in the corner trying not to be trampled and Ziva could see the concern etched on her face. She waved but she didn't look out. With her hands cupped round her mouth to add volume she shouted across the room, 'TALIA!'. The young girl looked up and smiled at her sister in relief. Ziva got off the chair and made her way over when suddenly she was thrown back by the force of the blast. She landed hard on the floor hitting her head, she clambered up dizzy thinking of nothing but her sister. Ziva's face was bleeding and there was debris covering her from the fallen ceiling tiles.  
_ " _Ziva, we need to get out there might be another bomb." Malachi said from behind, she didn't even realise he had been there.  
_ " _N_ _o! Tali!" She couldn't think straight, but she wasn't leaving. Malachi looked over trying to spot Ziva's sister, and he did. She was lying on the ground crushed by a support pillar, her eyes were open and there was blood running out her mouth. She was motionless and he knew it was too late.  
_ " _Ziva we need to go now! COME ON!" He tried pulling her by the arm but she shook him off and she rushed to her sister.  
_ " _Tali...please Tali, come on. WAKE UP! Tali! Please don't leave me…" Her salty tears dripped down and mixed with her blood. It was too late, she was gone but Ziva still wouldn't let go. She tried to cradle her body as best as she could with the pillar in the way. She whispered into her ear choking on her tears.  
_ " _Ziva. I gave you an order. We're going." Malachi barked at her. It didn't matter, Ziva thought, they could fire her for all she cared. Kill her. None of it mattered. Malachi and another Mossad officer, whose name she never knew, grabbed her and lifted her up dragging her away.  
_ " _I can't leave her! PLEASE! Get off me! Please, please, stop, let me go…" Her attempts were futile so she gave up, and let them drag her away, her body limp and heavy in their arms. The tears persisted but they were silent. Just like Tali…._

"But we have been unsuccessful. Finding Saleem is impossible." Ziva said hopelessly  
"Until now," Eli replied. He removed the flash drive from his cotton jacket and hands it to Malachi. "This has all of the information pulled from Abin Tabal's laptop, including the current location of his training camp in Somalia." Malachi showed Ziva on his laptop, and true to his word, it was all there. GPS coordinates, photos, maps, everything needed to kill that _ben kelev_. Malachi shut the laptop lid and focussed his attention back to Director David.  
"I am trusting you, two of my finest agents, to do what is necessary." Eli did not need to give them further instruction, they were Kidon, their task was simple. Destroy the camp, kill Saleem.  
"Yes sir." They said in unison. Ziva and Malachi looked at each other before leaving to plan the mission. They spent the following hours in Malachi's apartment planning the logistics of their operation with another member of Mossad, Aviv Holtz. Aviv would be there as backup, the muscle, Malachi and Ziva were the main officers attached to this case. Ziva did not know Aviv well but he seemed good enough, he was no Tony but as far as backup he would do.  
"I know a man named Daniel Shalev, he can get us to Saleem's camp." Malachi told them both laying down a piece of paper with Shalev's contact information on it. "As long as we pay him more than Saleem he can be trusted."  
"I do not like this Malachi, what if he warns Saleem." Ziva said, Aviv was silent but it was clear he agreed.  
"It doesn't matter. He won't but even if he does Saleem is no match for Mossad." Ziva bit her tongue, Malachi was head of the Kidon unit. She would need to learn to follow orders again, she was so out of practice it would be difficult. "We'll meet him at Eilat and cross the border to Jordan. From there we take the same ship as Saleem's goods."  
"Which is?" Aviv asked quietly.  
"The Damocles, out of the port of Aqaba bound for Mogadishu. Once we reach Somalia we will pay the courier to take us to Saleem's camp." Malachi put down more slips of paper including maps with their route marked. The next hour was used to plan their attack once they reached Saleem's camp, after that Aviv went home. Ziva and Malachi continued their preparations long into the night, they packed their supplies, plenty of US dollars, and of course their weapons and ammunitions. Having not been living in Israel Ziva had nowhere to stay so she slept on Malachi's sofa overnight. They would fly to Eilat in the morning, they could not waste anymore time Saleems camp could be relocated at anytime.

Both Malachi and Ziva were up at 04:30. Ziva took the first shower, and spent longer than usual not knowing when her next shower would be. When she stepped out she towel dried her hair and pulled it back into a tight ponytail, in the Israeli heat it would dry quick enough on it's own. She dressed practical as always, cargos and a black top followed by her military boots. Whilst Malachi took his shower she had some coffee and a banana before double checking everything in her backpack. It was hardest when she was alone, when she was busy with things and people she could forget. Forget the pain in her heart when she remembered NCIS. In the beginning she could sense their dislike, all but Jenny were displeased at her replacing Agent Todd. Slowly she had earned her place, and she liked to think of them as family. It was a shame the feeling was not mutual, Gibbs had not trusted her judgement with Rivkin, neither had Tony. Gibbs had left her. Every minute her feelings changed, she was mad at herself, she was mad at them, it was hard to keep everything straight. What she did know though was that she missed them. Ziva thought back to her first day, she had gotten there at 05:00 the time she believed they started work. In Israel working days start earlier because it is so hot by the afternoon it is harder to work, but Mossad started especially early and she assumed NCIS to be the same. She waited patiently, playing with her knife, cleaning her guns, tying her hair up and then taking it back down. It wasn't till 07:00 that someone finally arrived. Someone that wasn't a cleaner, or an intern that is.

 _The ding of the elevator, that would become very familiar to her, sounded his arrival. She could hear the whir of an electric shaver and Tony DiNozzo walked past. Tony had been the first person she met at NCIS, and now he was the first person she would come across officially in her new job. He clearly had not noticed her presence.  
_ " _Frickin' hate Mondays…" He groaned throwing his bag by his desk and taking off his jacket to reveal a white vest underneath. The man wasn't even dressed much to her disgust, who would come into work so unprofessional? "Frickin' five hours all you can eat burrito shack…" He muttered to himself opening a desk drawer. "More like five hour bacteria shack." He poured water into a cup and stirred it with his toothbrush, his other hand draping a towel across his shoulder. "Shouldn't have come into work today." He started to brush his teeth and stopped abruptly when he was interrupted. "If Gibbs sees me like this-"  
_ " _He'll probably be as horrified as I am. Agent DiNozzo." She finished his sentence trying her best not to look at him as he glanced over his shoulder with the brush still hanging out his mouth. Ziva leaned forward and pursed her lips with her eyebrows raised, "Working undercover as a hobo?" She smiled and Tony just stared.  
_ " _Mind telling me...eh, what you're doing here again?" Tony took the toothbrush out and looked at her confused. Ziva huffed and shrugged her shoulders slightly as if exasperated.  
_ " _Erm...waiting."  
_ " _For what?" Ziva didn't realise until then Tony had no idea. With his bedhead and stubble, and general state of uncleanliness that was evident. He'd flirted enough with her on their first encounter for her to know he made an effort around women. Had he known there would be a woman on the team he would not be so...worn.  
_ " _To start work." She replied as if it were obvious, almost like she was trying to rile him. She was. "Does everyone always come in this late?"  
_ " _It's 07:00!"  
_ " _At Mossad we start at 05:00." She smiled again and she could tell Tony was wound.  
_ " _Okay." He shut the filing cabinet and stood up, throwing the towel from his shoulder onto the floor. "Let me rephrase the original question." He said walking over to her. "What the hell are you doing here Ziva?"  
_ " _I see." She stood up and faced him. "Gibbs didn't tell you." She smirked a little, to mock the fact he was out of the loop.  
_ " _Tell me what." He sighed loudly, tired of her crypticness and games.  
_ " _Mossad's assigned me to NCIS as a 'Liaison Officer'. We're going to be working together."_

Malachi walked into the main area of his apartment and grabbed his bag, they were ready to leave. He turned the lights off and they headed out to the taxi outside. The drive to the airport was short, Aviv met them there and checked in their bags, there were no problems with their luggage regardless of its questionable nature. Mossad agents could get through security with bags stuffed with cash and weapons and no one would care. Malachi and Aviv sat together on the flight, Ziva opted to sit alone. It gave her time to reflect on everything, it had been a long time since she had been on a mission like this, and even longer since the main aim was to kill someone. Was it murder? Perhaps, but she sure as hell knew Saleem deserved it. She didn't care about anything but putting a bullet through his head, it was an unspoken agreement between Ziva and Malachi that she would be the one to kill him. There wasn't much turbulence and the flight was smooth, she refused the inflight food that rolled down the centre of the plane on a trolley at extortionate prices. She looked out of the window and watched as she passed above her homeland, they were too far up to see the buildings let alone the people. Behind her she heard Malachi and Aviv discussing their plan when they landed, she listened but kept quiet as they talked about Shalev.


	2. Chapter Two- Accommodation

_Author's Note: Thank you very much to all who reviewed the first chapter and especially to Lipush for her help. :) Most of this chapter is the story of what happened on the Damocles and a lot is taken from the NCIS episode 'Good Cop Bad Cop'. I claim no ownership of a lot of the lines in this I've simply added bits or tweaked it. Even so, I hope you like this chapter :)_

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 **Chapter Two- Accommodation**

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ac·com·mo·da·tion  
əˌkäməˈdāSH(ə)n/  
 _noun  
_ **1**.  
a room, group of rooms, or building in which someone may live or stay.  
"the cost includes airfare and hotel accommodations"  
synonyms: housing, lodging(s), living quarters, quarters, rooms; More  
 **2**.  
 **a convenient arrangement; a settlement or compromise.**  
"management was seeking an accommodation with labor"  
synonyms: arrangement, understanding, settlement, accord, deal, bargain, compromise  
"an accommodation between the two parties was reached"

* * *

Malachi walked into the main area of his apartment and grabbed his bag, they were ready to leave. He turned the lights off and they headed to the taxi outside. The drive to the airport was short, Aviv met them there and checked in their bags, there were no problems with their luggage regardless of its questionable nature. Mossad agents could get through security with bags stuffed with cash and weapons and no one cared. Malachi and Aviv sat together on the flight, Ziva opted to sit alone. It gave her time to reflect on everything, it had been a long time since she had been on a mission like this, and even longer since the main aim was to kill someone. Was it murder? NCIS had made her think differently about a lot of things she used to feel were fine. Perhaps it was murder, but she sure as hell knew Saleem deserved it. She didn't care about anything but putting a bullet through his head, it was an unspoken agreement between Ziva, Aviv and Malachi that she would be the one to kill him. There wasn't much turbulence and the flight was smooth, she refused the inflight food that rolled down the centre of the plane on a trolley at extortionate prices. She looked out of the window and watched as she passed above her homeland, they were too far up to see the buildings let alone the people. Behind her she heard Malachi and Aviv discussing their plan when they landed, she listened but kept quiet as they talked about Shalev.

Night had fallen and Ziva stood looking around for Shalev, whilst Malachi got their bags back. They handed them in as a formality, but since they didn't need to check their guns, no one really cared about the bags either. She spotted him next to a beaten up jeep and walked over.  
"Shalev?" She questioned already knowing the answer.  
"Yes. I presume you are Officer David then?" He answered, Shalev had spoken with Malachi over the phone and this was not him.  
"Clearly. My partner is fetching the bags." Ziva said, it felt odd to call Malachi a partner, Tony was her partner. Was.  
"Good then we will set off when he returns, once we've crossed the border it should not take long to get to Aqaba." Shalev explained as he smiled and opened the door for her, she kept her face neutral and stood still.  
"I will wait for him here, thank you." She would not let down her guard.  
"You have at least two visible guns on you and a blade, what do you think I would do?" He chuckled at his question.  
"Ziva!" Malachi shouted. she waved him over, with the bags slung over his shoulder. Aviv put them in the back of the jeep and they all got in together. Ziva sulked briefly, she had wanted to drive but she accepted she did not know the way anyhow.

"We're are here." Daniel announced as he pulled the jeep to a stop, Ziva grabbed her bag and followed him. Another officer pulled up in an old ford and joined them, he was purely there for the muscle and nothing else but since there was already an operative in Jordan, Malachi said it would be better with him. He followed them silently.  
"You will show us to the Captain?" Malachi asked skeptically. "I would hate to have to shoot you, well no, I wouldn't." He added smirking at Ziva.  
"I am a man of my word, and your money." His not so subtle hint was noted and Ziva handed him an envelope with US dollars, the easiest currency to change.  
"You will get the rest when we are in Mogadishu." She stated as he counted it.  
"Good. This way." He said pocketing the walked down the port next to the water. The only light on the water was the reflection of the moon, it was almost midnight and all that could be heard was silence. Malachi's hand drifted to his holster several times debating whether or not this was a trick, it was dark there appeared to be no signs of life, it would save time to shoot Shalev now rather than to fight him. The outcome would be the same. They turned a corner and they saw the crew playing poker, their faces lit by an old lamp.  
"Wait here, I will go talk to him. Come over when I tell you." Shalev said. He grabbed the bag of cash Ziva was holding and walked up to the table before placing it down gently. The Mossad officers could not hear the men but when Daniel gestured they walked over.

Ziva walked up to the table and to no surprise the men reached for their weapons.  
"That is no way to begin a relationship." She said harshly gripping the strap of her backpack.  
"Cup of tea?" He offered sarcastically tapping the ash from his cigar.  
"Thank you." Ziva replied, she watched as he put his cigarette in the ashtray and reached towards the kettle.  
"My own blend," He poured a cup slowly as Shalev watches, "A family tradition...You are a woman." He stated in surprise.  
"You're a genius." She replies sarcastically rolling her eyes at the idiot. He hands the tea to her, she would not drink it, pretend, but never drink.  
"I have no problem with women." He slouched back in his chair and smiled. "But I cannot vouch for my men." He added smirking. She looked across at the faces of the african men. She had fought worse, the men were nothing.

"I'm not paying you to assure my safety." Ziva said bluntly.  
"What are you paying me for?" The Captain asked in a harsh tone. The smile is gone, it is strictly business now as he leans forward ready to listen intently.  
"Passage...and discretion." She said looking at the man behind the Captain, his finger on the trigger waiting.  
"The second I can guarantee, as for the first?" He looked the beautiful woman up and down, Ziva knew exactly what his thoughts were and she ignored his leering eyes. She took a fake sip of the drink never letting it pass down her throat, it could be poisoned for all she knew.  
"To Somalia." Her words cut through the atmosphere, changing it in an instant. The men tensed, and the Captain looked at Shalev.  
"You have been misinformed. The Damocles is headed for Muskat." His eyes shifted lying and it was obvious.  
"That is not true." Malachi said glaring at him. "You lie." Malachi spat. The Captain returns the foul look as his crew shift anxiously waiting to kill them.  
"To protect his crew of course." Ziva defended him with a smile.  
"Shalev, what offence have I done that you would send me such people?" The Captain smiled as he asked the question but it was all fake. He leaned back in his chair waiting for the inevitable response.  
"Their money is good." Shalev said and smirked pulling his hand from his face, making eye contact.  
"All money is good." The Captain retorted before he looked back at the Mossad and then zipping open the bag to inspect. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife, just like the one Ziva's left hand rested on. Upon looking in the back he made up his mind and said, "Welcome aboard, we leave tonight." Ziva smiled briefly. The outcome was no surprise, she always got her way but it was still nice to hear it confirmed.

They boarded the ship later that evening, or to be technical, early that morning as it was 2am when they set sail. Captain Yosef, as he had introduced himself, showed them to their quarters. Malachi went to walk around the boat, and learn his way around, whilst Ziva stayed cleaning her guns. She heard his footsteps approach, as a Mossad operative it was easy to differentiate between men's boot sounds even over the noise of the crew. Ziva cocked her gun to check it worked properly.  
"The crew is sitting down to eat." He stated as an invitation.  
"Ziva you are coming?" Aviv asked in a gruff tone, whilst placing clothes in the cupboard.  
"Not hungry." She replied looking at Malachi.  
"Aviv, you go ahead. Be right behind you." Malachi said as he nodded at him.  
"Okay." Aviv shut the door and Ziva looked up at Malachi again before leaning nervously on the side table next to the bed. She went to cross her arms but decided it would look too aggressive.  
"We do not need to make friends with the crew." Ziva pointed out.  
"We need their trust." Malachi responded trying to reason with the sceptical woman.  
"And breaking bread will ease their nerves?" The disbelief was evident in her voice. She looked him in the eye.  
"At the moment it is not their nerves that concern me." He tried to reason with her, though why he did not know. Supposedly he was her commanding officer though it did not feel it. Ziva from the moment the mission had begun had taken the lead. Ziva was his concern at the moment, she was giving orders but he still doubted her nerve.  
"Have you ever seen a snake shed it's skin and then try to crawl back into it?" She asked rhetorically. He looked confused. "It is not natural."  
"You don't need your old skin, it is who you are inside. Just relax, let it grow back." He tried to comfort her but it wa useless. "The Americans left you Ziva, your family never has." He walked away leaving her alone. She throws her bag onto the top bunk in frustration. She glanced at the picture of her, Aria, and Tali. The reminder of why she was doing this. A reminder that this was about family. Malachi was right, they left her, but Mossad and Eli had welcomed her back. Perhaps NCIS was no longer family after all.

She went to go and rejoin the men in the canteen, the Mossad had their own table, it was clear the men did not want to sit with them anyway. Ziva and Malachi exchanged a look as Shalev left the room suspiciously. What was he doing? Ziva follows him immediately, silently. She watched a crew member pull a gun on him, a response to his nosiness in opening a door. It was best to wait before intervening she thought. She hid round the corner and watched as the man grabbed him by the throat. Now, she thought.  
"You say you are going to Somalia?" The man questioned, his gun inches from Daniel's neck. "Why?"  
"I don't know." Was Shalev's honest reply, Ziva approached silently her hand on her gun.  
"No one goes to Somalia without a reason." The man tightened his grip on his throat, "Very few go with a reason." He added.  
"He tells the truth, he does not know, he just works for me." She lied, it is not enough to convince the man.  
"He opens doors he should not be opening. I feel I should shoot him." Shalev's aggressor pointed the gun closer.  
"I would rather you did not." Her voice was calm but inside her head there was panic, how does she explain Shalev? "I asked him to find us some...um.." She winks at him with a smirk, "Privacy." The man pulled his gun away and smiles with Shalev, though for different reasons.  
"Oh...he works for you." The man's mind was surely jumping to filthy conclusions, which Ziva would confirm for him.  
"Yes." She nodded at the man smirking widely before going to kiss Shalev passionately. Fakely. They wrapped their arms around each other and continued the charade till the man has left.  
"I didn't mean to…" Shalev began to say.  
"Not another word." Ziva said cutting him off. "You should not be snooping around." She added.  
"Yeah well that's how I make my living." Daniel retorted. They both looked down the corridor to check he had gone.  
"Not if you do anything to jeopardize this mission. I will kill you myself." She walked away back to her room with a huff, annoyed at the stupidity of Daniel.

She placed her gun under her pillow and slept with one hand tightened around the grip just incase. It did not take long to fall asleep, the rocking of the boat made for a relaxing setting. There was no point to bother changing into sleepwear it was something that took up her space in her bag so she didn't bring any. The noise of Daniel placing a cup on the table woke her instantly. She pulled her gun out in milliseconds and cocked it.  
"Hmph. Nice bedside manner." Daniel joked, Ziva ignored his comment and got up to sit on the edge of the bed.  
"You're lucky you're not dead." She placed the gun back under her pillow, out of sight.  
"Well that's true for anyone. The other's are at the breakfast 'buffet', I wanted to wait. Let you get some rest." Ziva squinted a little at his words.  
"The past couple of weeks have been trying." She confessed, admitting it was probably visible even to a stranger. A nearby jacket is pulled on as she looked him suspiciously in the eye. "Who are you exactly Mr. Shalev?." She asked as she went to turn on the light and looked him down up and down. "Your hebrew name does not fit." She added.  
"Well, I was just born with it." He always had a response to everything.  
"Late life awakening?" Ziva dug a little deeper. He shifted his feet slightly.  
"Not too late, I'm 31 years old." Yet another response from Shalev that didn't answer her questions.  
"And adept at dodging questions." Ziva pointed out smirking, Shalev reminded her slightly of Tony as he smirked at her.  
"Who am I? Anybody really like answering that question? How do you define yourself?" He circles her so she is now the one pressed with her back against the cupboard. "You are what you say. You are what you eat. You are what you do." Daniel's movements were precise, deliberate, just like his words.  
"You are reckless." She replied. He leans in closer and she can feel the heat from his body.  
"You mean last night?" He said more but she didn't hear, all she could think was how close he was to her. "Definitely been in worse situations…"  
"I'm sure you have." He looked down at her necklace, the Star of David and rests a hand on her shoulder.  
"You don't want to give yourself away, lose the jewellry." He pointed at her necklace as she looked deep in his eyes trying to figure him out.  
"I would sooner die than take this necklace off. You ought to know." She pulled out his dog tags and let them fall flat over his shirt. She lightly brushed his face before heading off to get food leaving him confused.

There was no place she could want to be less, the canteen was full of men shouting, smoking, drinking, and gambling. She stands at the back as far away from them as possible, for two reasons, the main being the putrid smell, the second was as to not be overheard when talking to Malachi. There were very few moments where they could be alone on the ship to talk about the mission, when they were surrounded by the drunken fools it was easier. No one could be eavesdropping without their knowledge, and the crew were too busy yelling at the television to notice. Ziva was unaware of who was playing but she made small talk all the same.  
"Who are they cheering for?" She asked quietly.  
"The favorite. They're fickle." Malachi responded cynically. They both pretend to be watching the screen, neither care.  
"We make landfall in two days…" Ziva stated in a hushed tone, the Captain glances over at them but she knows he did not hear them.  
"That's the schedule." Malachi said as he watched 'Daniel Shalev' lean in to whisper something to the Captain Yosef.  
"There have been no changes." Malachi looked at her, it was a simple look but clear. She followed him as they walked down the corridor from the crowded room.  
"I have Aviv monitoring all onboard transmissions." Malachi stated.  
"Too far at see for radio to land." She pointed out confused staring at him intently.  
"Satellite phones."  
"You do not trust the captain?" Ziva asked already knowing the answer. She too did not trust him entirely, he had lied to them before. Malachi leads them a little forward and stops round a corner after checking it is clear.  
"I do not trust anyone." He replied. "Yosef has been in contact with Saleem's courrier."  
"To alert him of their arrival?" She reasoned logically but then changed her mind. "You think he suspects us?"  
"I think there is too much talk. We need silence." She knew what he meant. Their contingency plan.  
"You are contemplating a change? To the plan?" She doubted the plan, she doubted herself. She had not killed anyone in years, not unless it was self defence.  
"Tomorrow we will be in range of the coast. We cannot do anything until then." Ziva understood him perfectly and went to leave but he stopped her. "Ziva. Your father says any means necessary." Malachi walked off and left her conflicted.

She spotted Daniel leaving and followed him quietly, after watching him enter the supplies room she approached. He was making a call on a satellite phone, but to who? And why? She slid past the door and hid round the corner, close but out of sight. She was too far to hear the conversation so she went to go find Malachi. She explained to him what she had seen and he told her they need to change the plan.  
"You cannot be certain that Shalev has told the crew anything." She pointed out.  
"I will not take that chance, we may have already been delivered like rats to the trap." Aviv follows Ziva and Malachi closely behind looking around for danger. "If we have been compromised then-"  
"Look out!" Aviv yelled in a gruff tone before shooting at the attacker. It was one of the crew, with a gun. Malachi and Ziva darted behind the wall and reached for their weapons.  
"Aviv!" Ziva yelled panting heavily. She heard two more shots, two more dead crew members. One final shot and Aviv lay dead on the floor, the man who had previously threatened Shalev shot him from the floor above. Malachi and Ziva knew it was too late to do anything else, the situation had escalated and there was no escape. They ran back to their quarters and grabbed the machine guns, checking each one was fully loaded before heading out. They cock their guns in unison and nod at each other, ready. They walked slowly down the corridor shooting each man before he could fire at them. Once all visible targets were dead they ditched the hefty weapons and opted for hand guns.

Malachi turned a corner and saw Aviv's killer, the man fired a shot. He was not very good at aiming but managed to get him in shoulder. Ziva took his place and killed the man dead. She rushed passed the sandbags to see who he was talking too, Captain Yosef, who was pointing a gun at her. He did not fire, he was quivering with fear and she could not shoot him. Try as she might, her finger refused to pull the trigger, with the other men it had been easier, it was kill or be killer. But with this scared wreck it was not so easy. From out of nowhere Shalev appeared and shot the Captain in the back, Ziva did not lower her gun, she just narrowed her eyes. She did not trust him.  
"Put it down!" She yelled at him.  
"You put it down!" His response was childish.  
"I do not want to kill you." It was an honest statement but also a threat if he did not lower his weapon.  
"That's good because I do not want to die."  
"Did you betray us?" She panted, her face covered with confusion, and also sweat.  
"If I had, what would stop me from pulling the trigger right now?" It was a good question and Ziva didn't know how to respond when suddenly three shots fired. She pulled her gun to the sound of the source, and saw Malachi stood up on the higher level, gun in handed. He sighed frustrated and in pain from his shoulder. Ziva looked down briefly at Shalev, dead, innocent and dead. She would never truly know if he had betrayed them but she did not think so, he may have been on the ship for selfish reasons, but he was a good man. She could tell.


	3. Chapter Three- Damnation

_Author's Note: Yet again, I apologise for late updates. I can no longer promise regular weekly chapters, I just have so much going on right now. In thirteen days I'm going to Africa for several months (meaning few, more likely no, updates) and I still have exams currently. Thank you to all for reviews, and follows. The chances are the more reviews, the faster I update, as I'm more motivated! So please let me know your thoughts, it makes my day. :) Also trigger warnings: Explicit violence, torture, and involuntarily drug use._

* * *

 **Chapter Three- Damnation**

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dam·na·tion

 _damˈnāSH(ə)n/_

noun  
1.  
(in religious belief) condemnation to eternal punishment in hell.

exclamation  
1.  
expressing anger or frustration.

* * *

They spent the next hour get ready to depart the ghost ship, Ziva grabbed what she could and threw it into her backpack. Food, money, weapons, anything she would need. Malachi meanwhile made a simple sling from torn linen and went to ready the small motorised boat they would use to escape. Ziva joined him and they set off away from the scene of the blood bath. By morning they had made it to Mogadishu Somalia, and Malachi used the satellite phone to call Eli whilst Ziva tied the boat to the jetty. She walked over just as he hung up.  
"Understood Director." Malachi hung up.  
"What did my father say?" She asked climbing the steps from the jetty.  
"To proceed." He replied bluntly. "We are to follow the courier to Saleem, and kill him."  
"Did you tell him Aviv is dead and you too are wounded?" She knew he had not.  
"He thinks this is the best chance we have." Malachi said, clearly not fully believing it himself.  
"Then we have nothing! Who was Shalev calling?" She asked rhetorically looking at the blood on Malachi's face.  
"It doesn't matter, he was a leak that needed to be plugged. No one could know we were coming."  
"And now no one does." Ziva pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "I will go alone." She declared, Malachi in his injured state would be a liability.  
"Forget it." Malachi argued back.  
"Look we cannot disobey a direct order." That was true, but she would also never forgive herself if she were to get this close to killing Saleem and fail.  
"Ziva it is suicide!" Perhaps he was right, but she did not care, she may die but she would take Saleem with her. Her sister's killer. Her vengeance was stronger than anything else.  
"It is what it is!" She yelled attracting attention from the locals. Malachi looked at her sadly knowing he would probably never see her again. "Goodbye."

She walked away slowly smiling sadly when she was out of Malachi's sight she went to find the courrier. The port was full of locals selling fruit, fish, clothes, how would she find him in all the mess? She spotted a Middle Eastern man leaning back against the wall of a small brick building, next to him was another man presumably his bodyguard. She approached after removing a smaller bag from her backpack with her payment.  
"Abdul Tamzier?" She asked quietly. His gunman tensed,his finger on the trigger of his very powerful machine gun. The Middle Eastern man reassured him in a language she did not understand and he lowered the gun.  
"Who wants to know?" He snarled back in English.  
"I am looking for Saleem Ulman." She replied ignoring his question.  
"I do not know any man called that." Abdul lied smiling.  
"Really?" She showed him the bag's contents subtly before zipping it shut. "I know you deliver his supplies and today you will deliver me." She stated simply.  
"Why are you looking for him?"  
"Why do you care? Will you or will you not?" She slowly started to put the bag back into her backpack waiting for him to stop her.  
"I will take you there, I cannot promise you will come back." He laughed with his gunman and she smiled, they had no idea who they were dealing with. It would be them who would not come back.

The drive took nearly a day and she honestly did not know where she was, the gunman had the map and the courier was driving. Late in the afternoon he finally spoke to her after a journey of silence.  
"We are almost here, his camp is just up this road." He informed her. Whilst he drove up the narrow sandy track she quietly attached the silencer to her gun. She shot the gunman and the courier pulled over in shock, he reached for his gun but Ziva was quicker. She shot him in the head before he had even removed it from his holster. She stole the dead mens weapons and set off walking toward the camp. A few months before she would have felt regret, remorse, something but now all she could focus on was how she would kill Saleem. She had told Malachi it would be hard to be her old self again, but that was a lie. It was easy now, she took a swig of water and smiled. It was easier this way. Two minutes later she was hid behind a large rock, crouching, waiting for the right moment to shoot the two guards. Both of them stood smoking outside the door to the stone complex, she would shoot them with a silencer. It would be easier if Saleem's men did not know she was coming.

On the next guard rotation she shot the two new guards and the sniper on the roof. She entered the brick installation and was immediately met with another man. He was twice her size but opted to shoot her rather than have hand to hand fight, his mistake. He raised his gun and she knocked in from his arm using a simple blocking manoeuvre, after taking his weapon she punched him hard in the abdomen and then the throat. He fell to the floor wheezing for a moment, before she kicked him in the head and knocked him unconscious. She neutralised four other men in a similar way before entering Saleem's quarters. 7 men sat around a half broken wooden table, playing cards and drinking. The smell of stale cigarettes lingered in the air and for a moment she took a second to get her bearings. Too involved in their gambling, they hadn't even noticed her. She knew which was Saleem, it was clear by the other men's behaviour. The closest man to her had a winning hand but chose to fold against the man opposite him, the man at the head of the table won the round and took all the money from his men. Now was her moment, as they all erupted into laughter she shot the closest men to her taking out 3 out of the seven. The others reached for the weapons and launched on her.

Fighting these men one on one would have been a challenge but all three at once, nearly impossible. Nearly. The first man reached towards her, his hands aimed for her neck she ducked and used her leg to sweep him off her feet. On her journey back upwards she knocked the other two men down, dropping their guns. She kicked them away before putting a bullet in each of them and heading towards Saleem, he fired at her but missed. She pointed at him with her pistol and went to shoot realising she was out of ammo. She swore internally for a brief moment but turned to reach for one of the dead man's weapons. The door swung open widely as the reinforcements arrived, unluckily for Ziva she had been crouched next to it. The hard wood knocked her head back and she felt dizzy and confused. She stood up ready to fight but the bang to her head had impaired her reflexes. They were quicker than her. One man kicked her hard in the leg bringing her to her knees, and the other took this opportunity to use the butt of his gun to knock her out. The coldness of the metal impacted with such force she passed out immediately. The room went black and the last thing she saw was Saleem laughing.

When Ziva awoke her head was throbbing and it took a considerable amount of effort to sit up with the weight of the bump. Despite how heavy her eyelids felt, much like her head, she opened them slowly adjusting to her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the lack of a window, there went that escape plan. The smell of smoke drifted from under the strong wooden door and she knew there must be a guard outside, probably armed with more than a cigarette. Her cell was only a few metres squared, about the size of her apartment's bathroom. Her bathroom however was much cleaner, there was dirt covering every inch, dried blood (probably from the previous inhabitant of the cell), and a lot of unknown stains. The walls were concrete, bare, she pressed her head against the cold wall soothing the wound also checking if she could hear anything beyond them. Even with her ear directly against the dull grey barrier she heard nothing but her own breathing. The floor much like the walls was rock hard, there would be no escape. No window, no tunnel, no kicking down the door, she was trapped. For the first time in her life she was helpless and alone. Mossad would not come for her, they would not know where to look, her father would probably not waste the resources trying anyway. Ziva was not one to give up so quickly, but she already knew her fate, it was simple. No escape, and no chance of rescue, she would die there.

The next day she was left alone, no one came to interrogate her, or feed her. She hadn't drunk water either, and was started to feel severely dehydrated. Ziva tried her best to breathe through her nose in an attempt to retain the little moisture left in her mouth, she wouldn't have been so thirsty if it weren't for the Somali heat that was also making her smell increasingly ripe. At least on her own she had time to think, think on all her mistakes. She replayed every second over in her mind, the misguided punches, the flawed attack, her surprising yet inevitable defeat. The throbbing in her head was driving her crazy, what she wouldn't have given at that moment for a bottle of water and some advil. For a second she thought her prayers had been answered, as a unknown man opened the door and threw in a bottle of water quickly before locking it behind him. She crawled slowly and examined it, the seal wasn't broken so it probably hadn't been tampered with. All the same, she couldn't take that risk. She left it, despite the burning in her throat. A few more hours passed quietly, she couldn't hear anything but muffled voices and laughter through the walls. The staring contest with the water bottle went on for a long time, until eventually she relented and opened it. A nervous sniff told her nothing, it didn't smell of poison, but things rarely did. Ziva lifted it to her lips and paused, what if it really was poisoned? Was she prepared to drink it? Yes, she thought taking deep glugs of the cool liquid down her throat. It didn't matter anyway, a small part of her hoped it would kill her. She'd promised herself many times to never be captured alive, she'd failed herself, Mossad, her father. She relaxed after a while, after having no ill after effects from drinking the water, perhaps the reason they had indulged her was to keep her alive. After all you can't interrogate a dead body, unless you're Ducky. She closed her eyes and smiled sadly at the thought, she missed him. She missed them all.

"GET UP!" An angry voice snapped her eyes open from her brief slumber. He stood over her angrily, the man who brought her the water. A gun was inches from her face and she stood up immediately. She debated not moving, just so he would shoot her, but it wasn't worth it yet. There might still be a chance to escape, and following him would give her a better idea of the layout and their numbers.  
"MOVE!" He ordered, jamming the rifle into her back as she trudged slowly down the concrete corridor. She was led into an empty room with a single window. It was closed, but still let in rays of light. There was barely anything in the room, only two chairs and a small table with a draw. The gun poked her towards the chair and she sat down with her back to the window. The cable ties he secured her with cut into her skin, both wrists were fastened to the arms of the chair and her ankles were secured to the two front legs. It felt like it had been hours she'd been bound, before the door finally opened again. Saleem walked in slowly holding a small bag. He placed it on the table and unfolded it to reveal multiple syringes and vials filled with unknown chemicals. Her eyes widened and she struggled.  
"Do not worry there is no need to panic. These will not harm you...much." He snickered evilly and he pulled the plunger of a syringe filling it with a clear liquid. The soft footsteps towards her sounded deafening, he was inches away from her and she couldn't move. Her legs were tied in such a way she couldn't pull herself up even with the chair attached, the best she could do was tip herself over. She seized struggling as he brought the needle to her arm, there was no choice in the matter, but she could choose on whether or not she caused further injury to herself. Sudden movements and needles rarely mixed.

She could feel the liquid enter her arm, presumable straight into her vein. It was cool but seemed to cause no immediate reaction. She was pretending as if it didn't bother her in the slightest. She was hardly one to show fear in any circumstance.  
"In a few minutes it will become clear." He assured her quietly as he walked out of the room. True to Saleem's word Ziva began to feel the effects of the mystery drug, the room blurred, she felt nauseous and dizzy. The light burned her eyes, and she became more acutely aware of everything around her, even though she had no idea what she had been injected with. She closed her eyes for a moment unable to take the weight of her heavy eyelids and when she opened them she found she was not alone in the room.  
"Taliah?" She whispered confused, and groggy from the drug. Could it be? Her sister stood right in front of her, flesh and blood looking just as young as the day she died. The drug stopped her from questioning things further, it didn't occur to her that it wasn't possible. She may have seen her sister's body, but somehow she was there. Real.  
"It's me." Her sister replied quietly stepping closer.  
"Tali you've got to get out of here it's not safe!" Ziva shouted scared for the child. "Please you have to go."  
"Why what's wrong?" Tali replied confused as Ziva shook against the chair trying to protect her little sister, she couldn't move. "What are you afraid of?"  
"The men here, they're bad people. They are going to hurt me, and you if you don't leave…" Ziva was close to tears, they could hurt her, but not Tali. Never Tali.  
"Why would they hurt you? Did you do something wrong?" Ziva sighs, why wouldn't she understand? Why wouldn't she leave?  
"Because of my job, with Aba." Tali didn't really understand what her older siblings did at Mossad, but she knew they worked with her father. "And because of NCIS. Please Tali, just leave me." Her sister smiled, and Ziva didn't understand why. Suddenly it was no longer Tali stood in front of her but Saleem, smiling sinisterly. He spun around and left triumphantly having achieved getting her to talk. "Tali? Taliah!?" She shouted to the empty room, where had she gone...Suddenly the dizziness returned, and her vision blurred till she fell asleep.

When she awoke she felt the drugs wearing off, she still felt weak but her vision was normal and her head was not spinning. The tabled had disappeared, and now she and the chair were the only things in the room. The water bottle man entered the room, she had no idea what had happened since he left. Had she been hallucinating? Was it a dream? It had felt so real. She also did not know how long it had been, or how long she had slept, it was still daylight outside so perhaps it had not been long. Up till that point she had yet to be physically hurt, apart from her initial capture, that would change.  
"What is your name?" Water bottle man snarled. Ziva refused to look at him, and spat on the ground in response. He hit her, closed fist, straight to her left eye. She winced, keeping her eye half shut out of pain. She lost count of how many times he hit her. He asked many questions, her name, her nationality, who she worked for, etc. She didn't answer any of them. The pain in her face was such that she could no longer hold her head up. Her entire left side had swollen horribly, closing over her eye so she could barely see. Water bottle man smoked his cigarette as he stared at her, pulling her head upwards by his hair. The ruthless pulling of her hair, mixed with blood from her face and dirt in the air, had made it tangled and matted. He forced her to look at him as her blew smoke into her irritated eye. His foot crushes the cigarette stub against the floor, before he hits her again.  
"My name is Saeed. Soon you will learn to answer questions when I ask them. Now tell me, what are you doing here?" Ziva didn't move an inch, only her eyes moved as she purposely looked away. He hit her again, harder this time, and she heard the crack as her nose broke. She could feel the blood, taste blood, smell blood. Her face was covered. Her lip was split and bloody, swollen just like her eyes. Without help, Ziva couldn't move, it hurt too much. Saeed loosened his grip, and her head fell forward and hung limply like a ragdoll. She closed her eyes, hoping, praying, he was done for now. Of course he wasn't. Another half hour of unanswered questions, and brutal punches ensued till she finally just gave in, she couldn't fight it any longer. No matter how hard she tried to be defiant, to act as though she was fine, she couldn't last forever. She was so beaten that she didn't even look like Ziva, and through swelling her vision was so impaired that Saeed no longer resembled himself either. One final punch collided and Ziva David passed out.

When she finally awoke she was alone again, she looked around at all the cigarette butts on the floor, they were the only other things in the room apart from her and the chair. They smoke a lot, she observed, then again if you are willing to blow yourself up for the 'cause' lung cancer probably isn't a big concern. She hears the boots approach, the spark of a lighter muffled by the door. A few seconds later Saleem entered, Ziva doesn't look up but she recognises his shoes as they grind a half smoked cigarette into the concrete. Through the mess of her hair she watches as her hand slowly reaches towards her neck, was he going to strangle her? She wished, that would be too easy. He grasped her necklace and snapped it off her in one fast motion. Suddenly out of nowhere he pulled her head back by her hair, her neck strained painfully as she gasped in fear and shock.  
"Tell me everything you know...about NCIS." He ordered her, she swallowed silently. It had been a hallucination...she had told Saleem about NCIS. Ziva tried to think back to the conversation, incase she had leaked anything else, but she could barely focus on anything but the pain in her head. "You will tell me what I want to know sooner or later, but sooner would be better for you." His face was so close she could smell the cigarettes on his breath, and see the evil in his eyes.  
"You're Israeli?" He asked, taking a closer look at the Star of David pendant in his hand. Ziva didn't answer, he couldn't know for certain, he was only guessing. After all Israel was not the only country with Jewish people, and just because she had dark thick hair and tanned skin did not make her Israeli either. He waited for an answer tapping his foot impatiently, till he sighed and lost his temper. The blow was so strong that it knocked her over, still tied to the chair she lay on the ground blood pooling from her mouth.  
"Fine, do not talk. We have plenty of time, and resources to get the answers we want. Rest assured, you will talk."


	4. Chapter Four- Isolation

**Chapter Four- Isolation**

* * *

i·so·la·tion

 _ˌīsəˈlāSH(ə)n/_

noun  
1.  
the process or fact of isolating or being isolated.

* * *

She wasn't sure when, or how she had not woken up during, but they had taken her back to her cell. The cable ties were gone, and so was her necklace. In front of her lay a small tray on it was a plastic bowl filled with a questionable substance, and a piece of stale bread that had an insect on it. She wasn't that hungry. Yet. She had no idea what time it was, was it night? There was no window. Unlacing her combat boots, she slipped them off slowly and removed one of her socks using it to wipe the blood from her face. Briefly she considered making a garot out of her shoelaces. There were no windows, and if she was quiet, and quick she could suffocate herself before anyone noticed. It was be easiest, torture was inevitable at this point. Saleem wanted her to talk, and she knew what that meant for her future. Pain. Hunger. Dehydration. And much much worse. Suicide was not something she'd ever considered before, in Jewish law it was forbidden, but there were very few options open to her. She could hope they would give up early on and kill her. She could risk that she might eventually give in and tell them. She could gamble with the chance that there may one day be an opportunity to escape. Or she could get rid of all those possibilities then and there with a shoelace tied tight around her neck. She quickly replaced her boots and waited. She didn't know what she was waiting for, but that was all there was. Wait. Worry. Weep.

Almost two weeks had passed before she spoke properly. They were the hardest two weeks of her life, she'd been accustomed to torture before, but not for such a long period of time, and not in such conditions. They'd stopped bringing her food after the first two days, when she still had not told them anything. The amounts of water they gave her were just enough to survive on, but she was always thirsty. On one occasion Saleem had tried almost drowning her, holding her tightly by her hair shoving her head in a barrel of water till she almost passed out. Secretly she almost enjoyed it, waterboarding or similar torture was awful, but at least when she was under the water she could take deep mouthfuls of the murky liquid and quench her thirst momentarily. The terrorists weren't even close to running out of ideas, she knew that, they were frustrated beyond belief with her resilience but they were nowhere near to giving up. She'd lost a lot of weight, evident by the way her clothes now hung off her, the scraps of fabric were the same baggy and stained ones she'd been wearing since the Damocles. She knew that some people could survive over a month without food, and that gave her hope, and at the same time caused her to lose hope. Ziva had no idea if she was grateful for being kept alive or not. She was malnourished, dehydrated, and constantly tired. At first she'd tried sleeping away the hours, but they would not allow that. Now a guard came in every hour to wake her if she fell asleep briefly. Sleep deprivation had a very bad effect on the body when combined with numerous beatings and starvation. The hallucinations weren't the worst part of it, the worst part was when she returned to her senses and realised she wasn't back home with her adopted NCIS family. There had been many of her friends and family in that cell with her during the worst moments, on one occasion she thought she had seen Gibbs coming to save her. When she awoke from her vivid dream, in her small dirty cell, she cried. She had asked Gibbs to save her once before and he had, but she had no way of asking him this time, she was alone. In the end, she was always, and would always be alone. That's what the job did to her, she'd already lost her Ima, Ari, Tali, and so many others. Most due to Mossad. The Mossad she had happily joined in an attempt to please her father, and spend more time with her. Over time she fooled herself it was what she wanted, that it was her choice, just as leaving Malachi on the dock had been a choice. It wasn't, had she not gone on with the mission she couldn't have gone home. There would be no place for a Mossad officer who did not follow the Director's orders, regardless of relationship.

"Your strength is admirable." Saleem snarled, it clearly was not. "Many would have given up by now, smarter people would have told me what I want to hear." Ziva tried her best to lift her head, an act of defiance, but she couldn't. The strain on her arms was too much, and the pain was overpowering. Having deemed her cell too 'comfortable', the men had her strung up by chains now, the only things holding her up. Her arms were pulled above her head and the shackles fastened to the wall letting her lower body dangle limply.  
"Please…" Ziva whispered, her throat dry. It was the first word she had uttered since her arrival.  
"It talks? I was beginning to think I had a mute in my camp. Speak up woman." He ordered her stepping closer.  
"Wa-water…" She sighed letting her head rest again. Somehow without even looking she could tell he was smiling again, an evil smile.  
"Is that why you won't talk to me? Are you too thirsty?" He doesn't expect answers, she doesn't even nod her head. "Well let me get you some water." She hears the door swing shut behind him and the footsteps grew quieter as he walks away. Moments later he returns with a glass of clear water. She hadn't seen clean water since her first and only water bottle, more recently it had been a disgusting brown colour. He held it to her lips and she swallowed a few nervous sips, she tried to drink more but he pulled the glass away.  
"Is that better now?"  
"Y-yes." She replied slowly savouring the coolness of her throat.  
"Good, it would be a shame if you were uncomfortable." He snarled at her and pushed the glass against her face roughly, smashing shards into hers skin. "Now one last chance, what is your name." Silence. He swung at her, a closed fist to her gut causing her to cry out in pain. "I grow tired of these games. Now tell me."  
"Z-zi-" She stopped for a moment, deciding whether or not it was worth it. On the one hand what did a name matter, on the other what if she couldn't stop once she started talking? "Ziva. Ziva D-Da-David." After that he left immediately, probably going to find all he could on the woman named 'Ziva David'. Luckily since her joining Mossad, Eli had made sure to erase all evidence and trace of her time in the US, and there had never been info about her relating to Mossad.

It took two weeks for her to speak, three to give up hope entirely. She'd come to her senses and realised the obvious, there was no escape. No rescue. No release from the endless torment. Perhaps her captors were aware of her epiphany, as they started to remove anything that could be used to aid her suicide. They stopped giving her anything that could break into sharp pieces, no glasses of murky brown water, only plastic cups, her shoe laces were taken whilst she was sleeping, as was her bra, though that was removed forcefully when she was conscious. It seemed they were doing all they could to prolong her suffering, she assumed the worst when they asked her to undress but was relieved when they only took the bra. It was deemed to be too big of a risk to leave her with it, she could sharpen the underwire against a wall, or tighten the strap against her neck. She hadn't even thought about those options until they asked for it. Of course she refused, not wanting to display her body to the disgusting leering eyes. Was two guards really necessary for it? Yes one to hold her down as she struggled against the dirty hands, the other to rip it roughly from her slender frame. She'd possessed very little to begin with, having only taken what she needed. Most of her belongings, bullets, guns, knives, everything in her backpack had been stolen upon her arrival when they captured her. Saleem had torn the necklace from her and discarded it on the ground like trash. All she had left was two loose boots, her cargo pants and her tee. She'd no idea what had happened to her hair tie, it wasn't as if it mattered but she still found herself trying to remember in which brutal beating she had lost it. The Star of David necklace mattered most or at least it had early on. After three weeks she had lost all faith in anything, in Mossad, in her Father, in herself and in Adonai. Surely her God wouldn't have sentenced her to this misery? Surely a loving and benevolent God wouldn't have forsaken her in such a way. There was no God, that was her belief after three weeks of torture. It didn't matter, none of it mattered. If there was a God she would not be suffering in Saleem's hell hole.

"Tell me the truth! Why are you here?" Saleem shouted inches from her face, crouching down towards her. The fourth lash had been the worst, the one that caused her to collapse onto the floor. He squatted, his weight on his heels, his hands intertwined, waiting.  
"I don't know." Ziva replied lifelessly. So far all she had told them was her name and that was of no use to them.  
"What do you know about NCIS? Do you work for NCIS?" The man behind whipped her hard again, cutting deep into the skin, drawing large amounts of blood.  
"No. I don't know anything...please…" She begged him, looking deep into his angry eyes with her own pitiful ones. The man administering the torment said something in a foreign language she did not understand.  
"No Bashir, she is here for a reason, she lies. Again." Upon Saleem's instruction he swung back the whip and brought it down upon her bare flesh.  
"Please stop...I will tell you…" She lied, not caring about what would happen later, she just need a break from the pain. Saleem signalled to the man and he relaxed his arm letting the instrument of torture dangle from his hand. "I will tell you…nothing." She finished, shutting her eyes and waiting for the blinding pain. It didn't come. Instead the man put the whip down and left the room leaving her with Saleem.  
"The strength of human endurance, it fascinates me. Most would've have given in by now. You, seem to be something else. Which leaves me to question several things." He paced about her body on the floor, walking circles around the bloody mess. "You say you do not know why you are here. Am I supposed to believe you are here by accident? Yet you are surprisingly skilled in withstanding our interrogation techniques, as if you've had training or prior experiences to this. Do you see my problem?" Ziva wasn't even looking at him, so when he kicked her limp form over she gasped in shock and pain as the deep wounds on her back impacted with the concrete floor. He stood over her, like a mountain, she was the ant by comparison. Nothing, irritating, a small lesser form to be played with. At that point it didn't matter at all that her top half was nude, she didn't even try to conceal her breasts. It would've hurt to much to cross her arms over her chest.

"How am I to believe you are what you say are?" He drags the chair and places it in front of her. "Sit." The slow crawl to the seat was unbearable painful, and slow, though Saleem's help was worse. He pulled her up by her arm and dropped her on it. Ziva leaned forward in a desperate attempt to keep from the wounds touching the chair, she found herself staring at his boots again. "Since you clearly have been trained in withholding information, you are aware that we have not even begun?" He chuckled to himself. "We have many methods of extracting information, and so far you have only experienced the dull edge of our blade. You would be wise to tell us what we want before we sharpen it." As he said that he pulled out his military style knife. It was a large one sided black, with a small amount fashioned as a saw towards the hilt. Even in the dim light she could tell the blade was lethal.  
"Why...just kill me now. It would save you the trouble." She replied cynically, and tried to convey an air of disinterest. Internally she was begging for him to slit her throat. Quick. Easy. Not necessarily painless but it would be brief, and then it would all be over.  
"It would be a shame to dispose of such a…" Saleem pushed her back against the chair to reveal her face, and also her chest. "beautiful woman." He traced the knife lightly over her neck as he spoke. Her breath quickened as the knife reached her collarbone, slowly travelling lower. She clasped her arms protectively over her bare skin and turned away from him on the chair. Due to her tired and weakened state she misjudged the size of the seat and fell face first onto the floor, her arms crushed under her.  
"Though perhaps not the most graceful of women." Saleem added nudging her body with his foot before leaving the room and speaking to the guard. The guard then dragged her back to her cell.

She'd lost count of how many times she'd cried, usually they were silent tears, alone in her cell unable to stop. The only vocal cries were of pain, she was a strong person but no one strong enough to endure such amounts of pain without at least crying out if not screaming. Both of which she had done, in front of Saleem and her other torturers. Originally she had tried not to let them see the affect they were having, but it became impossible. Also the less emotion she showed, the more they tried to force it from her. The pain wasn't the worst thing however, the worst was the isolation. Trapped in her cell with only herself was the most brutal of torture. She began to think of the men she had tortured in similar ways, though they were not innocent she wondered if maybe she deserved it. To be on the other side of the questions, and techniques gave her a new perspective. One that caused her torment, of all the pain she had caused. All the people she had hurt in her life, had they felt like this? She wasn't innocent either, and perhaps Saleem could see that. Ziva had taken lives, inflicted pain physically and mentally, ripped loved ones away from their families. She'd been responsible for Michael's death partly, had she been honest with Tony it could have been different, or had she told her father that Michael was out of control. She didn't, she knew he killed unlawfully and she said nothing because she felt the men were guilty. In her cell she was with her worst enemy, herself. No one to lie to her, no one to justify her actions, no one to hold her and tell her it would all be fine. No comfort. No solace.

She no longer felt hunger, after three weeks of scarce food her body had adjusted to not expecting any and therefore the pangs and stomach rumbling ceased. She still yearned for water, clean water, once she had abandoned all hope of escape or rescue her dreams turned to dreams of a massive bottle of water that she could drink all at once and quench her thirst at least for a little while. Her voice no longer sounded like her own. She barely spoke but when she did it was low and gravelly, hoarse from the dry african air that was filled with dust that cut into her throat like glass. Though she had told them her name, no one addressed her as Ziva or David. No one gave her a name at all. They gave instructions and asked questions, mostly Saleem asked the questions, but they never called her anything. Perhaps that would mean acknowledging she was a person, rather than the animal they were treating her like. Her food and water came in bowls like a pets, she had a cage, and no bathroom either, she had been living like an animal. The only place she had for her 'waste' was a small bucket she left in the corner of her cell, sometimes they removed it and emptied it but when they did they made sure to 'accidentally' spill it. Sometimes on her, sometimes on the floor to make the room smell. Which it did, the stink was foul and in the beginning it had caused her to vomit, which of course only made it worse. The smell was combined of sweat, blood, mold, urine, and worse. Ziva wondered how long it would be till she became an animal, after all she was no longer a human, they had stripped away her humanity a long time ago. With no real human contact, apart from pain, a bucket to urinate in, and food that came in a bowl without utensils. What if she forgot how to be human? Forgot how to speak? How long would it take, she wondered, before she became their dog to kick around for fun?

Ziva was no stranger to dehydration, she'd been in deserts before without adequate water, but never for so long. The headaches got worse, they were no longer from the beatings, Saleem and his men seemed to grow tired of hitting her face till she was disfigured instead they now aimed for her abdomen when they punched her. The pain in her head was so severe some days she wanted to cry but she couldn't, crying would only remove more water from her body. Sometimes she was dizzy, and vomited from nausea, other times she just slept for hours and hours, that was if her captors allowed her too. Ziva was aware of her rapidly declining state and injuries, and how to deal with the problems the best she could, but it was difficult in her cell with barely any tools or materials. She tore off strips from the bottom of her trousers to make bandages for the worst wounds, but sooner or later she would run out of cloth. Sensibly she knew she had to clean them or they would get infected, but she couldn't bring herself to waste any of the water on her injuries. 32 days, is how long Ziva guessed she had been captive, she couldn't be certain given how much time she had been unconscious early on, and the lack of window in her cell. 32 days seemed like such a small number, to her it felt like a year, each day was a week, each hour was a day, Saleem's camp had it's own time zone. Prolonging her agony. There had been no small relief since she arrived, no day that wasn't as bad as the others, no random act of kindness. That was until Haroon. She didn't know much about the men in the camp, some spoke Arabic, some English and the others she guessed were speaking Somali. When she could she listened to the conversations, Haroon she had discovered was Saleem's younger brother who Saleem was trying to get involved in the 'cause'. Saleem complained to the other men about his baby brother often, they chatted like a social club over her bleeding body, he had been studying in America where supposedly he had gone 'soft'. Saleem had brought him back to the camp to remind him of their mission, their hatred, their monstrous ideals. He arrived on her 26th day, Saleem was complaining by the 30th.

Saleem had been giving Haroon jobs at the camp like the other men, and on the 32nd day he was assigned to be her guard. Previously Bashir, water bottle man, had occupied that job and taken far too much sadistic pleasure in it. Haroon just did as he was told. He stood by the door with his rifle, he chewed gum, sometimes he smoked. Ziva always knew when there was another guard with Haroon because of the juvenile laughter. On her 33rd day he entered her cell, it was the first time she heard him speak.  
"Here take this." He threw a bottle at her, it was the first clean full bottle of water in weeks. "Hide the empty bottle in the wall." He pointed at the brick wall which has some crumbling bricks perfect to conceal things in. He shared many characteristics with his brother, they both had tanned middle eastern skin and similar facial features. Though where Saleem had a trimmed beard, Haroon was clean shaven, and his middle eastern accent accent had a small note of American in it.  
"W-why are you he-hel-helping me?" Ziva asked nervously reaching for the bottle.  
"I am not like my brother. My name is Haroon and yours?" His voice was kind, but many people have kind voices. Ari did, and he had the soft eyes to match, and yet he betrayed her and Mossad.

"Z-Ziva. If Saleem founds out…" She was already doomed, but Haroon a young boy no older than 18 didn't deserve Saleem's wrath for helping her.  
"He won't, hide the trash, when I can I will get rid of it. Why are you here Ziva?"  
"Your brother. He want's me information from me." She doesn't say more it could all be a trap or some plan she wasn't aware of.  
"Have you given it to him?" She shook her head sipping the water. "I know my brother Ziva, he won't give up. He's going to keep you here forever." He informs her glumly as if he felt pity for her. No one in the camp had felt pity for her.  
"Until I die." She finished taking a sip. Haroon gave her a sorry glance, and quickly exited as voices approached. It was Saleem she could hear, so she quickly put the bottle in the wall and placed the crumbled rock on top. She backed away from the door, to the far end of the room in attempt to put as much distance between her and Saleem as possible.  
"She's sleeping. I think she is ill." A muffled voice spoke from behind the door, Haroon's. "Saleem she needs more food or she'll die."  
"Did the American's turn you into a weak coward Haroon? Is that what you learned there, how to be spineless. She is the enemy, America is our enemy, and the sooner you realise that the better." Saleem shouted angrily taking breaks to smoke his cigarette.  
"If she dies, you'll never get the information you want." Haroon spoke timidly but Saleem saw his logic.  
"Perhaps you are not as useless as I thought little brother. Fine, give the whore some bread." He sighed and as the smell of tobacco faded Ziva knew Saleem had left.


	5. Chapter Five- Hallucination

_Author's Note: I'll be honest the lack of reviews makes me sad. I know it's not a light story, or TIVA, but I am working so hard to make this perfect for you guys. I write this story mostly for myself but I do like to hear feedback even negative. I've been writing this since last November, and being the NCIS nerd I am, I've made storyboards for it. I've done sketches to better picture it and even, as I love playing piano, written music for it. I wish I could upload it on here, as it really helps give the emotional feel intended to the story. This story is my pride and joy, which is why if you notice mistakes please tell me! I'll never succeed but I try my best to strive for perfection. So if I've misspelt something, or put the wrong title (yes I did that on the last chapter, it is fixed now), please let me know so I can change it! :) x_

* * *

 **Chapter Five- Hallucination**

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hal·lu·ci·na·tion

 _həˌlo͞osəˈnāSH(ə)n/_

noun

1.  
an experience involving the apparent perception of something not present.

* * *

Haroon gave her what he could, things that would not go unnoticed, fruit and bread amongst other things. If possible he would take the bottle and refill it. Things did not get easier for her however. Saleem, seeing she had more life in her, tried his best to extinguish it, just like he did with his cigarettes on her skin. She'd never really minded people smoking, it was their choice, but when the butts were stubbed out on her skin burning the tender flesh, that was something else. She'd never experienced such painful burns until Saleem. She was accustomed to pain in her line of work from fighting and every once in awhile the occasional gunshot wound, but she'd never felt so much constantly. Burns, cuts, beatings, lashes of the whip, all of it was a daily, excruciating, occurrence. In the midst of the torture she made noises she didn't even know she could as she screamed in agony, crying out, begging for them to stop. Pleading at them to kill her, to end her pain.  
"Please...stop…" Ziva clawed at the ground trying to pull herself up.  
"It's in your power to make me stop. Just tell me what I want to know." Saleem kicked her down and she let her body collapse on the hard floor.  
"I c-can't..I don't-" She whispered into the ground afraid to speak louder.  
"Who do you work for?" The rock hard boot struck her stomach rolled her over forcefully, gasping for air, winded, her back arching upwards. "Who sent you?" Saleem was shouting now.  
"N-n-no one." It was a lie, and at the same time the truth. It was her choice. She made that choice the moment she left Malachi at the port. Severing all ties the moment she made that decision.  
"LIAR!" The boot connected with her face so strongly Ziva could've sworn she heard her jaw break. It didn't, though it felt like it. It felt worse than broken. He dragged her up, pushed her against the wall using his size to intimidate her. He repeated the questions over and over till the words lost all meaning. Till the room around Ziva blurred with each strike against her body. All the time she thought about her two constant companions. The emotional numbness she carried with her each day, abandoning all care for anything, and the physical pain that refused to leave her even in her sleep.

"Ziva? Ziva?" Haroon said in hushed tones trying not be heard. Slowly she opened her eyes. He was holding his flask to her lips and when she was fully aware she took a few slow sips. A quick glance at her surroundings told her she was still in the same place, the blood stained room they performed most of their interrogations in. "I have to be quick." He whispered resealing the flask and putting it in his pocket. In gentle motions he wipes some of the blood from her face before hiding the tissue with the water. Footsteps approach. Saleem. Her face is filled with panic, but Haroon's was worse.  
"Hit me." Ziva whispered in an urgent tone. He looks at her filled with doubts. "Do it. I've had worse." That was an understatement. Haroon knew why, he caught on quickly when she glanced at the door that was still open. He grabbed her wrist and slapped it hard creating a very loud sound, the approaching footsteps from behind the door wouldn't know the difference. She brought her hand up to cover her face as part of the charade. At that moment Saleem entered. With Haroon obscuring her face she nods at him, a signal clear as day. He slaps her again, this time on the face, it is mostly for show but because of earlier blows it hurts. There was no acting this time in her reaction. Guilt and pain flashed across Haroon's eyes but Saleem was oblivious.  
"Stupid bitch!" Haroon yells as Ziva cradles her pained cheek. Through the tangled mess of hair she sees Saleem's approving smile.  
"Little brother," There is pride in the monster's voice and it rips through Haroon like a bullet. "I had my doubts but now I see you are one of us after all."

The next two weeks were a blur of sleeping, and vomiting. It was likely she had caught some tropical disease, she didn't know what but it had made her even weaker. Saleem ceased his interrogations briefly whilst she recovered, not out of mercy or pity, but probably because he didn't want to be vomited on or have to have the interrogation room cleaned. Her cell already smelt heavily of the stench of sick, in the haze she had missed the bucket several times and a lot was in her hair. She found herself having such vivid dreams because of the virus she was convinced they were hallucinations even. One of the recurring images she saw was a shower, a hot clean shower. How she longed to feel warm water rush over her skin and take away the pain and dirt of the desert. At the same time she knew she could shower for a year, but she'd never be clean again. Once the illness passed her horrific routine returned. Every part of her abused body cried out in each small movement she made. No longer able to walk unaided, she was dragged back and forth like a rag doll. From her cell, to the interrogation room, then back to her cell again. Each heavy step send a new form of agony through her body, all she wanted was to rest but they would not allow that. After a while she had become numb to their pain, hitting the same places over and over had caused her to build up a resistance, but once they realised that they found new ways to hurt her.

For a long time Saleem found delight in cutting her, shallow cuts, just enough to cause pain but not enough for her to bleed out. If he was in a particularly sadistic mood he would heat up the blade first, the searing heat etched into her skin with the sharp blade. Ziva had always had confidence that she could withstand torture, that she would never betray her organisation or her country, she felt that confidence slowly start to fade over time. She'd been captive for over a month and by any standard had done well, but the prospect of spending the rest of her life in Saleem's camp, however long that might be, was too daunting. Once she told them something of use they would just keep wanting more, whichever way it happened, there was no end to her torment. At first she thought they would get bored and kill her, or she would tell them and they would kill her, but death was an escape Saleem would never allow. Never. In her darkest moments she had let the idea of telling them about NCIS grow stronger in her mind. Alone in her cell she sat against the wall wondering why she was still keeping their secrets. They had left her, she didn't work for them, she owed them nothing. That was a lie, she owed them everything. Her life and more. She went to sleep miserably smiling at her old friends, how she longed for a hug from Abby. It would hurt so much, but the idea of comfort, human contact, it was overwhelming. A irritating movie quote from Tony, just to distract her from the pain. A useless fact from McGee. A rambling story from Ducky with Palmer butting in awkwardly trying to bring something to the conversation, only to be finished with a Gibbs slap. Their faces filled the room, all staring down at her shamefully and she turned to the wall to hide her tears from their scornful faces.

Exhaustion was ever present in Somalia, which is why she didn't even stir when Saleem entered the room. Her breath was heavy, wheezing, as she slept. Carefully he pushed her hair aside, and injected a clear syringe of fluid into the sleeping woman. The loud wooden door slamming shut didn't even register to her as she curled her body even tighter into the fetal position. Time had no meaning in her cell so when she woke up it could've been minutes, or hours, even days, she had no idea. She slowly went to turn around and recoiled in horror hitting her back against the wall hard. The wounds in her back stung violently but that was the least of her concern. The corpse was staring at her, eyes open, mouth leaking with blood, soft brown hair framing the emotionless face.  
"Michael…" She stuttered trying to comprehend what was happening. She screamed in terror and devastation. Blood covered his shirt, oozing from the bullet wounds. Desperately she tried to apply pressure to his wounds. 'Ziva I'm sorry' the words echoed in her mind as she held the non existent corpse in her arms. To her he was there, she could feel the weight in her arms, she could smell the iron heavy blood. Rocking him back and forth, trying to keep him safe, she sobbed into the dead man's shirt. Eventually she knew she had to give him peace. She closed his eyelids with shaking fingers and lay him down on the floor with his arms crossed over his chest. That's when she saw the second body. Then the third. A fourth. Slowly her small cell became filled with corpses, Ari, Tali, Agent Todd, Aviv, Malachi, Tony, Eli, Gibbs, everyone she'd ever hurt in her life. Bodies piled upon bodies, blood leaking down from the mountain of death. The stench made her want to vomit, the blood stained the walls and her vision. All she saw was red. She reached for her sister first, trying to save her, she didn't deserve to die, but it was too late. It was too late for all of them.

"Oh God…Oh God…no…please…oh god…." She screeched out to nothing, unable to control her cries of anguish. She clawed at her hands, scraped them on the walls, rubbed them against her clothes, anything to get rid of their blood. Anything to stop the carnage before her eyes.  
"It's all my fault…it's all my fault…it's my fault…." She repeated this over and over, like a mantra as she clutched her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth desperately trying to make them disappear.  
"I'm sorry…I'M SORRY! Please go away… LEAVE ME ALONE!" She yelled at them, screamed, even swore at them but they still remained there.  
"I didn't mean to. I didn't want any of you to die….It's my fault…it's all my fault…it's all my fault." Ziva pushed herself as far away from her friends and family as she could, curling herself into a tight ball with her head between her knees. She didn't even notice herself speaking, screaming, crying. The sounds blurred around her, drowned out by the dying screams of her loved ones. The door opened, but in her broken state she failed to notice the man standing there. Saleem. His laughter went unheard. Curiously he watched as his prisoner seemed to be breaking apart, she was shaking violently, hitting her head against the wall repeatedly, slamming her fist brutally on the concrete floor till the knuckles were bloody. Each strike on the wall was accompanied by a loud animalistic scream filled with anguish and agony, in-between there were loud sobs of the repetitive 'it's all my fault'. He shut the door behind him, growing tired of it, at first it was entertaining but she was giving him a headache.  
"What have you done?" Bashir asked as the man slid the bolt shut again  
"It is a drug, it will wear off eventually, shame." Saleem smiled as he brought a cigarette to his lips.  
"But what does it do? Why is the whore screaming so much?" He lit the cigarette for Saleem as he chuckled.  
"That my friend, I do not know. It causes the recipient to experience vivid hallucinations, their worst fears in most cases. Whatever is causing those screams, it is of her own doing." He took a long, slow, drag from his cigarette appreciating the rich tobacco taste filling his mouth. "Keep an eye on her, let me know when the effects have worn off." He exhaled slowly before sauntering down the corridor leaving a trail of tobacco scented smoke as he went.

Haroon tried as best as he could to offer her support, she still did not fully trust him and he was aware of that fact. He did not hold it against her however, and fully understood why she would not tell him more than her name. Water was the hard thing for him to sneak for her, he could give her some from his flask when he was on duty as her guard, but sometimes he didn't see her for days. They decided it was too big of a risk for her to be left with a bottle or container incase Saleem or someone else found it whilst she was unconscious, which was often.  
"Ziva you need to get out of here. They will kill you, or worse…" Haroon said seriously in one of the few brief moments they were alone. Ziva almost laughed, almost. What could be worse than what she was already experiencing. She was constantly in pain, on drugs so often she had no idea what was real anymore, dehydrated, the list went on.  
"I can't…it's n-not pos-possi- I can't." Why did something so simple as talking hurt?  
"Listen, some of Saleem's men are moving out in hour, there will be the least amount of people at the camp. It's your best chance." Was he joking? Was it a trap? It didn't matter, it wasn't going to happen.  
"I can barely walk, I'm unarmed, I don't know where I am." All valid points but Haroon did not listen.  
"I can get you a gun. Seriously Ziva, you need to get out." His voice trembled, almost as if he was afraid for her, perhaps he was being genuine.  
"How…?" Slowly she began to come round to the idea, it was a suicide mission undoubtedly, but so was coming to the camp in the first place, and she was not dead yet. The worst that could happen is she was caught, beaten, she was accustomed to pain. If she was lucky they might even kill her.  
"When I give you the signal you need to be ready to move, I get you out the building but the rest is up to you. Here drink this you'll need your strength." He added handed her his flask.  
"But-"  
"Ziva I don't have time. It's your only chance." Haroon grabbed his flask from her and left quickly leaving her to question their conversation over and over in her mind.

If he was telling the truth it was worth a try, if not things could not get much worse, and if it was another dream or hallucination the outcome didn't matter regardless. She spent the next half hour trying to prepare herself, she ate the last apple hidden in the wall, she tried to do some push ups but found her arms were too weak and settled on sit ups. The waiting was awful, what signal did Haroon mean? Had she missed it? Suddenly she was interrupted by a knocking on the door, no one ever knocked, they just entered. She pulled herself up, trembling, her feet more unsteady than ever. The door opened and she cautiously stepped over the threshold.  
"Hide it, you shouldn't need to use it. Just keep running once your out of the building, there should be a town to the north, once you're there, you're safe." He handed her a small calibre pistol and she tucked it down the back of her pants covering it with the shirt, having checked the safety was on. Haroon led the way, his rifle slung round his shoulder. He poked his head round the corner and once he saw it was clear he motioned for Ziva to come closer, she turned the corner slowly and followed behind. The corridors of Saleem's camp seemed like an endless maze, each looked just like the last, and she felt like she'd walked miles. In reality it was probably only a few hundred metres, but her body protested. Ziva kept close to the wall, resting on it for support in addition to being able to conceal herself better as they approached a corner in the complex.  
"The doors just up here, run to the rocks, fast. If you're lucky no one will notice."  
"And if they do?" Her question went unanswered as he signalled with her hand to follow him round the bend, she saw the light creeping in from the door at the end of the corridor. She was so close that the light burned her eyes, the wind took her by surprise, she hadn't felt wind in weeks. It was something she never noticed until it was gone. Step by step she inched towards her freedom.  
"Little brother." An angry voice came from behind them, Saleem. The plan was over in that instant. There was no point trying to use her weapon, or to run. Behind Saleem were three of his men. "You have betrayed me for this whore? You have betrayed your family, brothers, the cause." He reached for Ziva's hair and pulled her painfully close to him, she was forced to look into his hollow eyes and feel his breath on his face as he snarled. "For this?" Saleem pointed his gun at her as his men grabbed Haroon. Was this it? Ziva wondered. After all this time he would finally kill her and she would be free. Free of Saleem, free of torture and pain, free of life. It took a few seconds for the loud gunshot to register, firstly because she did not feel the pain, secondly because she had no infact been shot. Haroon's body went limp in the men's arms as he fell first onto his knees, and then into a motionless heap on the floor. His eyes were open, lifeless, and open. A small hole in his forehead caused a dribble of blood to run down his face and meet with the large pool coming from the back of his head. She stood there in shock, unable to comprehend what had happened in front of her. Because of her.


	6. Chapter Six- Resignation

_Author's Note: Once again 'trigger' warnings for the most vile of subjects. Violence, assault, abuse, all the things that a logical person assumes Ziva went through in Somalia basically. A special shoutout to 'NinjaCom' who reviewed this and Behind Closed Doors with two paragraphs of lovely comments. Reviews are brilliant, positive reviews are amazing, and long positive reviews? I love them! Also she's currently writing a story about Tony going to look for Ziva *SPOILERS* after Family First, so go check it out, it is very good! Just search the author name 'NinjaCom'. Okay this is it guys, the last chapter for 10 weeks. I am going to Africa to do volunteer work. I won't have a computer or internet, please add this to your favourites or follows so you will know when I update upon my return. I felt like this is a good place to stop and whilst ideally I would want to finish the WHOLE story as opposed to the first part, I didn't want to rush it and upload something sub standard. I hope you enjoy it, and please, wait for me! I'll be back!_

* * *

 **Chapter Six- Resignation**

* * *

res·ig·na·tion

 _ˌrezəɡˈnāSH(ə)n/_

noun

2.  
the acceptance of something undesirable but inevitable.

"a shrug of resignation"

* * *

Ziva cried out, pulling against the men in a useless attempt to break free. Her body strained against the hands on her arms and shoulders as she let out a primal howl of anguish. True she had not known him well, and certainly not long enough to form any meaningful attachment. She hadn't even truly trusted him, and yet, she cried for his soul. He didn't deserve to die for helping her, just another body on her ever growing pile, more blood to soak her hands. Saleem shouted at his men, it wasn't in English but she knew he was ordering them to hold her tighter. He turned his gun but a thought crossed his mind, and the hesitation flashed in his eyes for a moment before he struck the butt of his gun hard against her temple. Ziva didn't have time to feel the pain, she so was used to being knocked unconscious and waking up somewhere new it didn't even come as a shock when she awoke in shackles, heated with the hot Somali sun, that burned her skin and ripped flesh from her wrists. Of all the methods to be restrained shackles were not the worse, usually, but Saleem had sadistically tightened them to far beyond what was necessary. Her wrists were joined by a short thick chain that prevented her moving her arms more than a few inches apart. Her ankles had a little more give, and she could pull the shackles at least a feet from each other, allowing her to stand up and walk small steps. There wasn't much room to pace in her cell, but she needed to stretch her aching and abused body.

She was shackled for a week, the amount of time Ziva assumed Saleem thought it would take her to learn that escape was not possible. Trying, however, was punishable. She felt the change in him after then, he'd given up on trying to extract information. he had all but forgotten about her brief mention of NCIS. She was only being kept alive for their entertainment, and on the worst days, their pleasure. The interrogations changed from usually just Saleem to more men. They took turns in beating her laughing and comparing who had the most of her blood stained on their knuckles. Taunts and jeers echoed throughout the camp as she crawled across the floor helpless, blind from the swelling around her face. She knew it wouldn't be long before they hurt her in other ways, she'd been expecting it from the beginning and was surprised it had not yet happened, they had violated her in every way possible except one and, since it was becoming more and more clear each day that she was just their cowering dog to order around and beat, she knew that it would be soon. The first time it happened she was prepared, she had stood up to worse and she knew it would be over eventually. With her eyes closed, and her body limp she just let it happen. She couldn't fight them, not all of them, and it would happen whatever she did. Without resistance it would be less painful. They put their hands on her in every vile way imaginable, only stopping when Saleem ordered. As repulsed as Ziva was by these men she was grateful that this new form of torture meant less beatings on her face. The bruises healed over time, though new internal ones formed. Her face was no longer swollen and cut, and though she had no mirror she felt as though the bruises had faded. Ziva wasn't stupid, she knew that it was for their benefit and not hers. They preferred to have something more attractive to use, than the bloody mess she had been.

There was a part of her that wanted to fight back against the men, she knew it would only make things worse, but at the same time if she didn't at least try to stop them it seemed she was allowing it. That was how it felt for Ziva resigning herself to her miserable fate. To the men it probably wasn't even a crime, a prisoner was less than human as it was, a female prisoner was just a toy to play with. She was nothing more than an object which they thought was rightfully theirs to use, to abuse. Like small boys they broke their toy often and tossed it aside for a new one. Over time they grew bored of her, she was only taken from her cell once a day. Usually in the evening when they had been drinking, and playing poker to pass the time before they decided to play a new game. Sometimes she was passive, motionless, but other times they refused to allow that. Taunting her like a dog, to do tricks for treats. Asking her to say foul things in return for some water. Making her reciprocate with the promise of food. They watched as every ounce of life drained from her, and it was then that Saleem started to use her as a servant feeling she was defeated enough to not be a danger. She didn't have the energy to try anything when Saleem gave her a glass bottle of spirits to serve to his men. She could've smashed it and used the half broken bottle as a weapon. She didn't. Her role had changed, and she was both relieved and distraught at it. It is true that she was no longer in constant agonising pain, but now she had been reduced to a slave, a lifeless slave serving the men in whatever that wished. If that meant they beat her then she let it happen, she couldn't do anything else, if that meant she served their alcohol as their hands grabbed her from all directions then sobeit. There was nothing she could do. Her life was over but she wasn't dead, only on the put up no resistance when they threw a bag over her head, she asked no questions as they dragged her down the corridor, her bare feet aching with every step. All she could see was black, and all she could feel was each individual stone stabbing her as she walked. The smell of cigarettes hung in the air, mixed with her own foul smell, she hadn't bathed in so long she had almost forgotten what warm water felt like. Or the taste of cool clean water down her throat, all she could taste in that moment was the sharp desert air.

Ziva always had hope that even if she was ever captured, broken down, tortured beyond repair, she would still be true to herself. She'd once thought that she could retain her mental health and normal thinking despite anything. She was wrong. It is easy, in peaceful safe times, to say you will cope. In reality it is impossible. She had no idea at what point she had changed, but she no longer felt like the same person and it wasn't Saleem's men that had done that. It was herself, she may be trapped with the most vile of men, but she was also imprisoned with herself. Without other people, people who didn't beat her, she was face to face with her true self. Not the woman who people saw her as, and in turn she saw herself like that, but who she really was. She wasn't brave or fearless, trained and unbeatable, she was broken. She was a shattered mess of pain, anger, loneliness and she had always been. Ziva was always running through life so fast, she never stopped to take a look at her self, but in Somalia she had no choice. The men she killed weren't victories, the people she hurt weren't oversensitive or weak, and all the lives lost weren't inevitable or collateral damage. Ziva had built up many walls and defences over time not just against others, but against herself too and at what moment they all came crashing down she did not know. All she knew was she was not the same person anymore. Even if she were to escape, go back to normal (though she had no concept of what that was anymore), she would be different. There was no way she could ever go back and she knew that. If by some miracle she was set free, she would be running for the rest of her life. Not from Mossad, her father, but from herself.

Another day in hell she thought slowly waking up on the hard floor. She reached a hand up to her aching head and sighed, trying not to get in caught in the tangles of her hair. To her body it was morning, to the rest of the world she did not know without sunlight. Her 'morning' routine consisted of trying to stand up and stretch, checking her existing or new injuries, and waiting. It seemed that something was happening today that luckily didn't involve her. The men were running about whispering and chattering to each other, like gossip on a playground. She could hear Saleem shouting, but it was muffled by the walls, incomprehensible. She heard a door slam and angry footsteps headed towards her, and as a result tensed her body a little. Ziva clambered up slowly with the support of the wall on her back and stood waiting. Always waiting. Her hands rested with her palms on the concrete, as if it could provide something to hold on to. It didn't. There was nothing tangible in her cell, nothing to grip or hold, nothing to give protection or distraction. When Saleem entered a guard walked before him, a black cloth in hand. He swung out at her stomach and as her body naturally coiled downwards he pulled the bag over her head. She knew then something was different, they rarely blindfolded her anymore so she must be going to another part of the camp. Or perhaps they were going to execute her. It would explain the bag if they didn't want her to see it coming, but these men were not that kind. She was being pushed forward by a man behind her, unsure by who but she assumed it is Saleem. His grip was tighter than necessary, hands digging in through the shirt she had been given by one of the men. Saleem shouted loudly and she heard the door open, another interrogation? She screamed internally, and then prayed again that maybe he had finally decided to kill her instead. Under her black hood she almost smiled at the thought. She feels herself pushed through the threshold of the room and then Saleem speaks again.

"Questions are being asked in town about missing NCIS agents," He says, and Ziva suddenly pays attention. Had Mossad come to rescue her? Then she fully registered what he said, agents, not agent, not former agent. It couldn't be her. She didn't have time to think on what it meant as Saleem continued. "Concerned that US forces might mobilise, one of you will tell me the identities and locations of all the operatives in the area, and the other one will die." Saleem was addressing her, she was sure, but who was the second? Or possibly the others? She was so dehydrated she couldn't think properly, her mind clouded by the swirling sands of the unrelenting desert. The bag was pulled from her head and she gasped, in shock waiting for the blow to come. Her head had been resting limply from her neck, her eyes closed trying to fight the pain in her feet but when Saleem tored the hood away she was forced to look up. Her eyes widened at the sight, he was less than a metre from her, sweating and beaten. His lips chapped from the dry heat, just like hers. She began to wonder how long he had been in the camp with her, did he already know, or was this reveal as shocking for him too? Yes, was the answer his facial expression gave, Tony stared back at her in disbelief convinced she wasn't real. She couldn't be.

Ziva didn't move, doesn't blink, part of it was shock, the rest was habbit. She had gotten used to only moving when ordered over the last few months, and she had retreated within herself so well that on the outside she appeared just a shell most of the time. Until they made her scream.  
"I'll give you a moment to decide who lives." Saleem said before leaving, the guard shut the door behind him and they were alone. Nothing changed. Ziva was as lifeless as a statue, her eyes filled with sorrow. Now he too would die. Was it not enough that she be resigned to this hell, but now Tony also? She wanted to scream, to cry, to slam her fists on the wall. It was the first real emotion she had felt in a long time. Tony smirked a little, she didn't.  
"Well, how was your summer?" He chuckled softly, forcing a smile through his chapped and painful mouth. He had tried not to speak, but as Saleem had informed him earlier he could not fight against the drug. If he didn't talk he felt a growing pain, an urge, until he did. The large window behind Tony streamed light into the room and onto Ziva highlighting her pain to him. He'd be an idiot not to see the change, it wasn't just physically, there was light on her face but not in her eyes. She couldn't bare his gaze any longer, the silence was hard enough without staring into his searching, pity filled, eyes. It could've been seconds, it could've been minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Tony till Ziva spoke. She swallowed and opened her mouth, he waited patiently till she found the words. He needed to hear her voice, then it would be real, it had to be real.

"Out of everyone in the world, who could've found me, it had to be you." Her words were slow and careful, it had been a while since she had properly spoken and for a second she almost forgot how. She squinted her eyes, the natural light being far too bright. Tony regretted his thoughts only a moment before, he didn't want to hear her voice after all. It was so lost, so defeated, so different. She sounded aged, exhausted, it didn't have the edge that made it uniquely hers. He nods and smiles on the outside, trying to put her at ease as she makes eye contact with him again. Tony twitched a little, and Ziva wondered if he was in pain, but she didn't ask. She looked around and saw the outline of McGee in the corner of her eye. Another death to add to her conscience.  
"You're welcome, so you glad to see me?" He's still smiling, how could he still be smiling? She wasn't glad, part of her was, only to have another human to talk to. Someone that wouldn't beat her first before the conversation. But the rest of her knew, that they would both be dead very soon, and human contact was little consolation for Tony and McGee's death. She didn't care about hers anymore, but now they had gotten themselves killed. For her.  
"You should not have come." She gasped shaking her head with each word. Tony looked at her in disbelief as if he was confused.  
"Oh alright then, good catching up." He tutted and nodded his head at her sarcastically. "I'll be going now." Ziva shook at the loud sound of him clattering his restraints against the chair, lifting it from under him and slamming it down in failure. "Oh yeah, I forgot, taken prisoner."

Ziva stared at him with an open mouth, had he lost his mind? She couldn't even respond to his stupidity, it hurt too much to even think of what to say. Instead she focused on her peripheral vision.  
"Are you alright, McGee?" She still stared at Tony, angry, annoyed, confused, none of it showing on her lifeless face.  
"I'm just glad you're alive." McGee gasped through heavy breaths. Ziva shut her mouth and swallowed, trying to comprehend the situation.  
"You thought I was dead?" Each word was a massive, painful effort. Tony looked up nodding.  
"Oh, well, yeah." She couldn't understand, she could barely think straight in her condition. She creased her brow trying to register his sentence but she still doesn't understand.  
"Then why are you here?" It is a simple question, but there was no simple answer, at least not an honest one.  
"Well McGee," Tony said smirking a little, trying to play it off like always. "McGee didn't think you were dead." He was almost laughing, but she had seen it all before. Tony trying to get round a serious situation with humour, unable to face reality.  
"Tony." She said, a little louder. "Why are you here?" She stared at him, searching, just like he had before. He twitched, pulling against his restraints trying to distract from the building pain. He groaned knowing he wouldn't last for much longer. The undeniable urge to open his mouth and-  
"Couldn't live without you, I guess." He smiled as the pain faded, physically at least. Ziva blinked at him.  
"So you will die with me." It wasn't a question, not a joke or a challenge, it was a fact. The way she said it left no room for argument, and she had no doubt. Her world came crashing down once again at that thought, her eyes drifted to the floor unable to look at either man she had killed.  
"You should have left me alone." Tony's face fell and matched Ziva's visible sorrow. Who was this woman? She was so broken down and lifeless, Tony didn't even recognise her properly. She was looking at him, and yet she looked right through him. Ziva didn't care, he could see that. She didn't care he was there, or that she might die, even that they might all die. She had resigned herself to her own miserable fate and there wasn't an ounce of fight left in her.


	7. Chapter Seven- Salvation

_Author's Note: No length of author's note would be enough to cover what I want to say, but I'll try to be as brief as I can. Firstly, yes this chapter is a month late. I've had a lot going on and there was a lot for me to catch up on when I returned from Africa. Secondly, the months volunteer work I did in Africa was beyond amazing, it wasn't easy, some times I cried tears of joy other times tears of sadness. It was an emotional and educating roller coaster, hell I even got tear gassed! (Long story, but tear gas is not fun, it stings and pains so much!) Now I seem to be on another coaster, because, well, I live in Greece. Yep, lived in Africa for three months, came back to England and then moved to Greece. I could be here for a year, maybe two, I'm aupairing for a nice Greek family. Luckily they have better wifi than Africa, and I brought my laptop, so I can write! Okay, so on to the chapter, this was a challenge to write mainly because of the emotion in it. Also because of some logistical errors, it took me a long time figuring out how they got from Somalia to the US, I was googling helicopter ranges, how many galleons of fuel they can hold, air bases in Mogadishu, Addis Ababa, etc. I wanted to get it right! It was also a challenge to write because I haven't written for months and it took me a while to get into the flow. Anyway I hope you enjoy this, and I know I say this every time but please review. It makes me sad that people don't review this as much as my other stories, because I'm proudest of this and it's my favourite! Also I've not had reviews for months, I'm having withdrawal. (Also if there are any mistakes, I may stab myself because I have proof read this seven time, but still tell me in the review!)_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven- Salvation**

* * *

salvation

 _salˈveɪʃ(ə)n/_

 _noun_

 **1**.

preservation or deliverance from harm, ruin, or loss.

synonyms: lifeline, preservation, conservation, means of escape

"she clung to that conviction, knowing it was her salvation"

* * *

 _You should have left me alone._ The words echoed in Tony's mind, was she not even a little bit pleased he had come? Apparently not. He took a deep breath and strained against the restraints. He threw his head back looking upwards unable to control himself from talking.  
"Okay, tried. Couldn't," he said with a small smirk, "listen you should know I've taken some kind of truth serum...So if there's any questions tha- you don't want to know the answer t- to-" He couldn't finish, it was too difficult with her looking at him in that way. Ziva looked at him with a defeated frustration, she was angry at his attitude but too weak to feel it properly. Too weak to feel anything. She looked down at her tied hands, her vision starting to blur a little.  
"I did not ask for anyone to put themselves in harm's way for me." She had caused enough pain already. "I do not deserve it." Ziva looked back at Tony briefly before hanging her head once more.  
"So what you doing out here? Some kind of monastic experience? Doing penance?" His eyebrows were raised high in shock from her last statement, and his voice was dripping with sarcasm.  
"It is justified." This time there was no looking away, she stared right at him with heavy eyes and a sad smile to match.  
"Get over yourself." It was all he could say. No real words would form. How could Ziva possible think anyone would deserve this? Especially her.  
"I have," Ziva said honestly. He would never forget that look, that smile, until the day he died. Tony was certain it would haunt him for a lifetime. She leaned forward slightly, and smiled sarcastically, with a small nod. It was hollow, empty. She truly didn't care.  
"Now you tell Saleem everything he wants to hear," She begged, "And you try to save _yourselves._ I am ready to die." She looked down awkwardly unable to understand why she had told him that. Tony was glad McGee interrupted, he had nothing to say to that. What the hell could he say? Did she want to die?  
"That's not how it works," he said confidently looking at the ceiling.  
"How what works?"  
"The plan," Tony answered her simply. He'd expected to see something, a small flicker of hope, anything. He didn't.  
"You have an escape plan?" she asked slightly sarcastically. "Tony, they have thirty men, heavily armed. They have anti-tank, anti-aircraft weapons." There was no escape. "What do you have?"

Tony quickly told her of the events that led them there, not wasting a second, knowing Saleem could return at any moment. Ziva listened quietly, mostly she was focussing on keeping her eyes open, if only to stare at the floor. There was a crushing pain in her head and her vision was getting worse by the second.  
"Wait." She almost whispered it. "You got captured on purpose?" She'd always thought Tony to be reckless but this, this was a new level of stupidity. A mixture of emotions bubbled to the surface of subconscious. Why? How did they know she was here, surely Mossad hadn't told them? Also, having been captured and held for three months, Ziva knew the pain these men could inflict. Why would any sane person voluntarily be subjected to that?  
"These men are killers Tony."  
"I know. That's why we have to stay alive long enough to not get dead." Tony could slowly see the cogs turning in her mind but all he could focus on is the fact she kept saying his name. _Tony._ It felt odd to hear her say it in her sad defeated voice, he'd heard it shouted in frustration, in concern even, and once under-cover as a breathless moan, but never like the way she said it now.  
"Yes it would." He smirked a little.  
"How long will it take?" Her interested was definitely captivated now and he so wanted to tell her but he couldn't.  
"I don't know how long do you think I've been talking." Stalling, he added silently. They couldn't risk telling Ziva, if she had been here as long as he suspected she may have already been broken to the point beyond repair. She might tell Saleem their plan for fear of more torture, or even as a result of Stockholm syndrome. Unlikely, but not a risk they could take.  
"What's the plan?" Ziva hissed annoyed. Tony took a deep breath and she waited anxiously for him to start.  
"Well, we fail to contact Dubai, word gets to the carrier group in the Med' and they scramble F22 Raptors that burn sand into glass. How long that's going to take, I don't know. Hours? Or...Days?" She looked away towards the floor. There was no plan, she realised.  
"Ziva, can you fight?" It was the first time he'd said her name, the first time she'd heard her name in a long time. All the hidden emotion inside leaked out through a single tear as she looked up at him realising that to him she was still 'Ziva'.

Saleem swung open the door with force and Ziva flinched and lowered her head. This was it.  
"Oh, hey Saleem. What's up? What's the commotion?" He had to be acting, Ziva thought, how could he be this calm. Perhaps Tony and McGee had been here longer than she thought, long enough to be tortured into insanity.  
"We're moving out." Ziva looked up slightly. He was stood looking out the window, presumably at his men preparing to leave.  
"Oh, that's good. I was getting kind of tired of the place." Tony smirked turning his head round towards Saleem who now was moving towards her. In one quick motion he had her by the hair, his knife against his throat. The cool metal blade pressed just enough to hurt, but not enough to cut her. He held her matted hair in a fist close to her scalp and she took deep breaths recovering from the sudden rush of adrenaline.  
"No. We're not done yet," Saleem snarled with an evil smile pushing the blade slightly further.  
"If they do not check in their people will come looking for them." Ziva cried out to Tony's surprise. He stared wide eyed at her, pleading.  
"Ziva. Shut up," Tony growled with an edge almost as sharp as the blade against her throat. She had no idea where to look, Tony was desperately trying to make eye contact but her head was being pulled upwards and it hurt to strain her eyes in his direction.  
"Kill me!" Ziva gasped. "You'll need the Americans for leverage." Was she being clever or did she now view them in that way? Tony was lost. Why was Gibbs taking so long?  
"I don't make bargains," Saleem retorted pulling her closer to him.  
"Do you make pizza?" Ziva looked helplessly at the source of the quizzical voice. Pizza? He had lost his mind. McGee heard the signal and swung and his bound legs to trip Saleem. Tony silently prayed that the knife hadn't cut Ziva when he fell.  
McGee rushed to grab the large knife Saleem had dropped, they both scrambled on the floor but it was over before it had barely started. McGee stared into the gun drawn at him and watched Saleem's finger slowly curl around the trigger…

"STOP! Stop!" Tony yelled from across the room in a bid to distract him. "There's something I haven't told you yet." Bluff, he thought, lie, he screamed in his head. Gibbs must have seen the fight through his scope surely, it wouldn't be much longer. It couldn't.  
"And what is that?" Saleem laughed.  
"Well, I told you about the brains, I told you about the guts, I told you about the muscle. The scientist, the politician, the leader. I told you about every member of the team except myself, the part I play." He couldn't keep stalling, Saleem would catch on soon.  
"Yeah, which is?" Tony was well aware Saleem was only doing this for entertainment, whatever answer he gave they were still dead in his eyes.  
"I'm the 'wild-card'," Tony stated with a smirk. "I'm the guy that looks at the reality in front of him and refuses to accept it, like right now. I should be terrified right? But I'm not, because I just can't stop thinking about the movie 'True Lies'. You know? Where Arnie's strapped to the chair and shot full of truth serum?" Ziva stared wide eyed at him hoping there was something behind his madness, a plan.  
"He picks his cuffs and kills everybody," Tony continued, "You have thirty seconds to live Saleem." Ziva blinked in shock, but Saleem remained unphased.  
"You're still bound," He sneered. "You're lying."  
"I can't lie," Tony reminded him. "And, I didn't say I was going to be the one to kill you. Remember when I told you my boss was a sniper?" Saleem barely had time to comprehend what his prisoner had said before the glass smashed. Tony and Ziva whipped their heads round to shield themselves from the broken window. Saleem wasn't quick enough to react before the bullet ripped through his skull, tearing through the brain tissue causing irreparable damage. He fell to the floor, blood pooling around his head, staring up at Ziva with open hateful eyes.

The moment Saleem falls to the ground chaos erupted in the camp. Tony could hear the troops moving in, machine guns blazing, shouts in Somali and English.  
"Okay," He said struggling against the chair as McGee started to free him from his bonds. "Look out!" The guard in white from earlier burst in with his weapon, his bullets only hit the ceiling as he fell backwards from a sniper shot to the head. Tony's face was full of fear and determination, he only wished Ziva's was too. She still hadn't moved, instead she stared at Saleem on the ground.  
"Come on, here we go," He said hopefully as McGee cut the cable ties from his wrist skillfully. Tony reached for the knife to free Ziva's hands, she let him whilst still watching the body.  
"Come on, alright, here we go," Tony repeated as he pulled Ziva to stand, she was like a doll, moldable but unable to move herself due to shock. He threw her arm round his shoulder and hoisted the majority of her weight onto himself as McGee copied him. Slowly they began to stumble out of the interrogation room in a fear fuelled daze. McGee's arm swung as he gripped Saleem's handgun. He didn't even think to raise it at the attacker that appeared from round the corner, he didn't have time before the assailant was shot dead in front of them. Ziva stared in shock, another second and they would have been dead on the ground instead. McGee started to walk forward down the dusty corridor panting and pulling Ziva with him. Tony mirrored his actions but couldn't understand how McGee was moving so fast in the heat. Sweat dripped from each of them as they gasped in the hot air. The three of them turned the corner and stood face to face with their silver-haired saviour.

"Let's go home," Gibbs said standing calmly in the midst of the chaos. Tony looked at McGee with glee and McGee wiped his brow in relief. No one looked at Ziva, she just sank into the darkness between them watching Gibbs who had yet to make eye contact with her. A small smile, almost unnoticeable, was playing across her face. It hadn't been real till she saw Gibbs but in that moment she knew, they were going to get out of here alive.  
"Come on let's move," Gibbs ordered as they approached, "I'll take her. Move." He repeated as Tony and McGee took their weight from under Ziva and transferred it over to Gibbs. He didn't even talk to her. Did he even see her as he did before? Or was she just 'a victim' or 'the captive'? She opened her mouth to protest, to assure him she could walk by herself, but no sound came out.  
"Go DiNozzo," Gibbs said as McGee and Tony stared at the both of them. Gibbs lifted Ziva up in his arms, throwing her over his shoulder in an effective fireman's lift. Ziva felt ridiculous, like a child, as Gibbs carried her out like a corpse. McGee and Tony took the lead, coordinating with the soldiers outside.  
"They've got a helo' ready boss," Tony said shouting over the distant gunfire and whirring blades.  
"What are you waiting for then?" Gibbs said ducking as he headed towards the aircraft, his eyes burning from the sand swept into the air by the propellers. He loaded Ziva in first, assisted by Tony who was already strapped in and ready to fly. They both reached for the seat belt buckle but she pushed their hands away determined to it herself. Her shaking hands were still struggling when they took off but neither Gibbs or Tony wanted to offer help again.

Gibbs pulled the door shut and signalled to the pilot that they were ready to leave. Ziva stared out of the window as they took off looking down on the camp. It was so small. It had never felt that way, but seeing it from a birds eye view gave her a new perspective, at the time it had felt like an endless maze. She had been dragged back and forth through the winding corridors regularly and it always caused her pain. Her mind was swirling with thoughts, unable to comprehend her new freedom. She could see Gibbs talking to her, but she couldn't hear it.  
"I think she's in shock." A muffled voice suggested, Tony's?  
"Ziva," Gibbs said, "Look at me Ziva." She tried her best to focus on his voice, to hear his words. Ziva looked up at him but her eyes stared right through him.  
"Can you hear me?" She nodded slowly.  
"I need you to listen to me now, okay?" Gibbs asked. "You're safe. You're alive." Why was he telling her this? Ziva nodded blankly. Gibbs carried on talking to her, trying to ground her but his voice faded until all she could see was his mouth moving silently.  
Were they going to take her back to Israel? She hadn't given much thought to Eli in a long time but now the prospect of facing him was a huge weight on her mind, balanced only with the concept of facing Vance. She belonged nowhere. Tony watched with concern as she stared down out the window, he had no idea what she was thinking, but her eyes watered slightly. He desperately wanted to say something, anything. The only noise in the craft was the roar of the propellors, and the pilot and co pilot shouting back and forth.  
"Boss, where we going?" McGee said. Tony could've hugged him in that moment.  
"Ethiopia, once we cross the border we'll set down to refuel," Gibbs answered, as he did so he watched Ziva curiously in the corner of his eye.

After that there was only silence between them. Tony continued to stare at Ziva but she was too absent to notice. He watched as she repeatedly pull her hair back from her behind her ears only to push it back again seconds later, he watched as she fought to keep her eyes open and her head up right, and he watched as her eyes filled up and yet a single tear never fell. Slowly they made their descent onto a dry field the air around them filling with dust. Once the helicopter fell silent, and the sand settled around them, Gibbs opened the door. Both Tony and McGee rushed to scramble out and stretch their legs, Tony had spent enough time unable to move in the camp and the helicopter had only made his muscles ache more.  
"Uh Boss, is there somewhere round here with a store? We could probably do with getting some water." He subtly turned his head back to the helicopter where Ziva hadn't moved. He couldn't deny that he was thirsty also but she was the priority.  
"I think there's a village half a mile west," The pilot said walking towards them, "Shouldn't take us long to refuel, you could try there." Gibbs nodded and Tony went to retrieve his backpack from the helicopter. Luckily it had been left in the jeep, hidden under the front seat, when they were taken and Gibbs had retrieved it for him.  
"We're going to take a walk to the town," He said quietly as he checked for US dollars in his temporary wallet. "Do you..er, want to come?" She shook her head almost unnoticeably and went back to staring out the window.

They only had US dollars and were almost certain they were ripped off for what they bought. Tony tried his best to haggle but the language barrier made it impossible, in the end he left the store with six big bottles of grossly overpriced water. At least he could be certain it was clean however. Outside Gibbs was standing, waiting with a pair of boots in his hand.  
"How..never mind," Tony said staring surprised at the fact he had managed to find a pair of boots in the chaotic market around them. He'd never been to Africa before, and probably never wished to again given the experience, but everything looked how he would have imagined. There were women with bowls of bananas balanced on their heads, and babies slung on their backs with a sling, children drawing patterns in the sand. A small crowd beginning to gather around them. Gibbs felt uneasy with the attention they were attracting so he motioned for them to get back to McGee and Ziva.  
"America! American man." A young boy, perhaps thirteen at the oldest, tugged at Tony's sleeve. He tried to walk away but he felt a wave of sympathy for the boy who was clearly quite poor and gave him one of the water bottles before leaving. They left the chorus of shouts and waves behind them and walked back slowly to the helicopter. Ziva was sat on the grass pulling at what little grass had grown when they returned and McGee was talking to the pilot. Tony handed over four of the bottles to McGee who passed them around between himself, Gibbs, the pilot and the co pilot. The remaining one Tony kept and walked over to sit beside Ziva after taking the boots from Gibbs. He unscrewed the cap and held it out to her. Ziva blinked slowly as she looked at him and her trembling hands took it from him. She cupped it with both as she brought it up to her lips taking small sensible sips. The moment the cool water passed down her throat she gave up on being cautious and began to gulp it down barely taking time to breathe. By the time she was finished she had drunk almost half and a lot had dribbled down her chin and onto her shirt. He put the boots on the ground in front of her, she wanted to say thank you but the words wouldn't form. Tony watched as she pushed her blackened feet into the shoes. He tried hard not to stare but both of them had scars on the soles, two toenails were missing, and he saw severe restraint marks on the ankles that cut deep. No wonder she could barely walk. Suddenly the water began to make it's way back up, clearly her haste in drinking was an error. Quickly she turned her back to a confused Tony and leaned over on the ground making retching sounds. He pulled her hair back as she emptied her stomach, aside from the water there wasn't much in it so there wasn't a lot of mess. Once she was finished she sat back up and wiped her mouth with the cloth Tony handed her. She tried to say thank you but once again, it didn't happen.

They flew to Hara Meda Airport, the closest air base, in Debre Zayit where they were to board a cargo plane headed for the US. The moment they touched down they were surrounded by soldiers which, despite her history, made Ziva David nervous.  
"We're here to escort you to the plane," said an African man when Gibbs opened the helicopter door, "This way." The man spoke with a heavy accent and was dressed in greens, his face was formed of strong hard features and his expression made it clear it wasn't an invitation. They followed a little distance behind the man, Tony constantly looking over his shoulder to check Ziva was keeping up.  
"Why do I get the feeling they don't like us being here boss?" Tony asked quietly so no one but Gibbs would hear.  
"Because they don't." They carried on across the airport in silence until suddenly Ziva cried out in pain as she collapsed.  
"Ziva!" Gibbs yelled drowning out Tony's gasp of worry. She had been struggling to walk in the oversized boots, but of course hadn't said anything until it became too much. The soldier turned around and rushed over to join them, crouched down on the floor by Ziva.  
"Inya betek'oraret'u yasifeligenali," he spoke into his radio, "āwoni, NCIS ānidu." He turned his attention back to Ziva but Gibbs pushed him away as his hands reached for the ankle she was protectively clutching.  
"I have radioed for a Medic, sir." He explained anxious after the hostile act. "I'm trying to help."  
"I-I am fine." It was almost inaudible but Gibbs heard her. "I d-don't need a medic." Tony almost thought to smirk and say 'too late', because at that exact moment the medic arrived, sprinting towards to them.  
"What happened?" Gibbs was surprised to see a white American medic, he didn't know that the Ethiopian air-force had Americans working for them.  
"Nothing- I'm f-fine." Her voice said otherwise, but Ziva insisted again and again as the people fussed over her. In that moment she wanted to disappear, to melt away into the tarmac, and never be seen again. She couldn't cope with all the people, there were too many, their voices were too loud. Everything was too much, too bright, too hot, too-

The light felt like it was burning as she opened her eyes, the room was a blur and the people in it out of focus. She must have passed out again, she often did in interrogation, when the pain got too much. Not again she thought, she couldn't take much more. She could hear something being moved, was it the battery they had electrocuted her with many times? Or the assortment of knives used to cut her?  
"I think she is awake," Ziva didn't recognise the voice. "Yes. She is coming around." It was an African accented person, but not the same accent as most of interrogators, who clearly was not confident in their English by the way they spoke. She forced her eyes open despite the pain and saw it was a man dressed in an army uniform, but which army?  
"Pleas- Don-" she started to speak.  
"Ziva you fainted." Someone interrupted, she knew that voice, she was sure, "The medic here has checked you over, you should be okay to fly. Your ankle is fine, just a little swollen." Ziva sat up and looked around and remembered. It hadn't been a hallucination? It was real. Wasn't it? She glanced at the base's first aid room, there were health signs scattering the wall, a box of opened gloves, two camp still beds, and a desk. It wasn't exactly luxury, but then again compared to where she had been it was a five star hotel.  
"Drink." Gibbs ordered her, "Drink, you'll feel better." Ziva drank the water slowly, determined not to make the same mistake twice.  
"She needs to eat also." The medic said from the far end of the room. "Carefully, her stomach cannot handle too much." Gibbs and the medic, who's name she heard was 'Dawes', carried on talking like this for minutes. As if she wasn't even in the room…

When they finally boarded the plane it was night time, Ziva felt embarrassed for having delayed the flight and also surprised that they had waited for them. They sat in the cargo hold, strapped in with flimsy harnesses waiting to take off. A soldier came and did a final check before leaving, on his way out of the plane he handed Gibbs a bag 'from the medic'. Gibbs thanked him and eventually they took off. Once they were stable and there was no more turbulence Gibbs released his grip from the harness and unbuckled it to open the bag. Inside was more bottles of water, and food containers and thermoses. He handed a thermos and a bottle to each of his team, and Ziva, before he opened his. He took a long inhale and smelled a thick meaty soup. Ziva felt like she was drunk on the scent of real food, hot, edible, even pleasant tasting, food. She lapped out tongue cautiously, determined not to burn herself and began to drink the stew. It seemed her stomach was more forgiving now that it had been early in the day as she managed to keep it down along with the water. Gibbs knew there was more food in the bag but he ignored it, he felt conflicted but decided it was best. Despite the fact that they were all very hungry, the medic had reccomended that in Ziva's state she shouldn't eat too much as her stomach recovers as it could even be dangerous. He didn't want to hurt her further. Whilst Tony, McGee and himself weren't at as much risk he still didn't get any out as he felt it would be too cruel to eat more in front of Ziva . Ziva finished the soup after a very long time, she knew she was hungry but her stomach wouldn't agree. She'd been starved for so long the thought of eating made her feel sick, but she still tried. Eventually she emptied the thermos, but she still felt uneasy. Tony watched her, waiting to see if he should rush over to hold her hair, but she seemed to be okay.

Eleven hours into the flight, Ziva could take no more and finally got up to go to the bathroom. She awkwardly asked Gibbs for the plastic bag, even though she was not the first to go it was still embarassing. She squatted behind a crate, shielding herself from their view, and once she finished she tied a knot in the bag and left it there to be disposed of later with the other bags. Instead of going back to her seat she paced to the other end of the aircraft and sat down on the floor with her knees held close to her chest. Tony looked over at her and decided her couldn't let her be alone, he had to talk to her, to say something, he had to.  
"Hey…" said Tony sitting down a few feet away, not wanting to crowd her. "Listen Ziva I…" She wouldn't even look at him.  
"I cannot. Not now." Ziva said quietly before he could get any further. Tony felt hurt, but he understood that she needed time. However much it pained him, it was much worse for her. With great difficulty he stood up and left her alone. Ziva listened as he footfalls grew quieter and then he started to talk to Gibb. Over the whirr of the engines their conversation was muffled and she knew her sounds would be too so she let out a small sob that had been in her throat all day. She'd forced it down multiple times but it had to escape sooner or later. One sob turned to two, and soon she had to cover her mouth with her hand to quiet herself, burying her head between her knees. She felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, stinging, silently she was relieved she could cry. It had been so long since she had, and she needed to, it felt like it had been building painfully and once it was out she felt much better.

Ziva wasn't sure how long she cried for, but by the end she had a severe headache. She heard Gibbs shout for her to strap herself in for landing and she stood up brushing away the evidence. Slowly she stumbled to her seat and buckled the harness, holding on tightly as the plane shook greatly during its descent. The only thing that reminded her it was real was the indisputable pain from being shaken against the hard metal, were it not for that she might have thought it was a delusion and she was still in Saleem's camp. It would not be the first time she had thought she had been rescued...The plane touched down with a loud thud and they all released the breath they had been holding. Was she really home? Well, it had been her home for four years, she wasn't sure what it was now. In that instant it all became real, all the relief she hadn't allowed herself to feel flooded her system, she was overcome by the reality of her freedom unable to comprehend how she felt. Once that plane door opened she was in DC, wonderful Washington with rain and clouds instead of brutal blistering heat, with grass instead of dust. She was so tired but it didn't matter, nothing did anymore, not the pain in her feet, or the throbbing in her head. She was **_free_**.


	8. Chapter Eight- Liberation

_Author's Note: So erm, I'm back in the UK again. I constantly seem to be travelling, first Africa, then Greece and now back to the UK. Hence a slightly late chapter (I know I'm never on time) because of the travelling. This chapter was difficult to write because of the hospital scenes, I tried my best to research as much as I could and where I didn't know I left it out. This is a scene I think definitely should have been in the show, because otherwise the audience is led to believe that she didn't even need to go to a hospital which is preposterous given the injuries she most likely sustained during Somalia. Also whilst we know (S07E02 Reunion) that Ziva stayed in Navy Lodging before returning to NCIS it is again unlikely that she stayed on her own, I cannot imagine any sensible person allowing Ziva to leave without supervision given her physical and possible mental state._

* * *

 **Chapter Eight- Liberation**

* * *

 **liberation**

 _lɪbəˈreɪʃ(ə)n/_

 _noun_

the act of setting someone free from imprisonment, slavery, or oppression; release.

"the liberation of the prisoner"

* * *

The aircraft door opened, slowly letting the sunlight in inch by inch. She had hoped it would be raining, she had missed rain. Gibbs led his team out of the dark plane and out into the open with a simple, "Let's go." They followed him as he stepped onto the concrete of Andrew's Air Base and began to walk towards the main building with what few belongings they had with them, Ziva had nothing to carry but the weight of herself and the last few months. The sun still hurt her eyes, she was used to being inside with little or no light, however much it hurt she wouldn't look down at the ground. She wanted to see everything. Tony watched, turning his head round every few seconds, as her eyes darted in all directions. They were all aware of how much they were being watched, but it was only Ziva who watched back, looking at the somehow comforting familiar uniform of American armed forces.  
"Where now boss?" Tony asked voicing all their thoughts.  
"Home." answered Gibbs putting his bag on the table to be checked by security. Home, Ziva thought, home meant NCIS. Would she be going with them? What then. She didn't have a home, it was incinerated by Mossad months ago.  
"Good to go?" McGee questioned as the security officer checked the last back, the man nodded back.  
"Your car is parked outside the front gate." said the officer. They grabbed their bags once more and set off to the town car in the distance. Once they neared closer Tony saw that it was a BMW town car, a sleek black one.  
"Is this the Director's doing?" Tony asked eyeing up the car.  
"Guess so." The apathy in his voice was clear, Gibbs did not care about travelling in style. The driver tossed their bags in the trunk for them and held the passenger side door open to Gibbs who, to Tony and McGee's surprise, declined and gestured for Ziva to ride shotgun.

The driver tried his best not to let it show how many questions he burned to ask about his passengers. He'd been the Director's driver for over a year and he was used to ignoring conversations, but ignoring this was a challenge. Ex-Officer David had never looked so different, like everyone at NCIS he'd heard the news of her death and was shocked when he saw her approach with the rest of the team. He could smell her strongly, he suspected his passengers in the back could also. Ziva knew why he opened the windows and turned the air-con on it's highest level, she hadn't showered in months. That is of course unless you count being jet washed with ice cold watered as a form of torture, or having her head submerged in an oil drum of murky brown liquid till she nearly drowned. Even without truth serum Tony felt obliged to talk, the silence was deafening.  
"What's the time?" he asked weakly, it was possible the worst attempt at small talk.  
"A little after noon Agent DiNozzo." their driver replied after checking the dash. "Traffic isn't too bad, we should be at the Navy Yard in ten minutes." Ziva stared out the window but her eyes weren't watching the road, they glazed over as she thought back on the enormity of what had happened. She was safe, rescued, free and yet just a couple of days she had been locked in a stone cell, alone, cold, dying. Her body ached with the physical souvenirs from her captivity, all she wanted to do was lie down, to curl in a corner away from people and try to cope but she couldn't and now she had to go to NCIS. The moment she would step in that building she would be a spectacle, even if her hair were combed neat instead of matted, or her clothes clean instead of covered in dirt and blood, she would still be stared at. She was the Mossad Officer who left because an agent shot her boyfriend, she was the woman who accused the same agent of shooting a man out of mere jealousy.

"Ma'am?" Her body jumped beyond her control, her adrenaline flooding her system as her heartbeat quickened at the Driver's sudden interruption. "Sorry I didn't mean to- never mind. We're here." She was brought back to reality and realised that she was the only one left in the car, she hadn't even noticed the car had parked. Gibbs was staring at her through the window, and he reached for the car handle to open the door for her. She climbed out feeling incredibly unsteady on her legs. Gibbs reached to support her but she shook her head.  
"I am fine." she said with a determined look. All she had to do was make it to the next opportunity to sit down, preferably without fainting again or falling down. Of all the times for her body to fail her, this would have been the worse. Going through reception Ziva noticed Hank, who often checked in the visitors and did the searches, had grown a goatee whilst she had been gone. For a brief moment she thought he would hand her a visitors badge and have her sign in the book. He didn't, instead he stared in awe as they all traipsed past him towards the elevator, leaving a dirty trail on the carpet from their boots without a care. Tony and McGee entered followed by Ziva and then Gibbs who pushed the button for the squad-room floor. The elevator began to rise slowly and they all relaxed slightly in the privacy of the metal box. McGee leaned against the metal banister and Tony stood in the corner looking up at the light.  
"Just another day at the office." Tony said sarcastically breaking the silence. Ziva's eyes flicked briefly at Gibbs and then back to the floor. A loud chime signalled and the doors opened, Ziva looked to Gibbs again waiting for him to lead. He stuck his head out the elevator and then walked slowly to his desk to ditch his bag and jacket. He looked up at the Director on the stairs and nodded. Slowly, led by Vance, the room erupted in respectful applause.

Gibbs and Tony took their seats and watched as Abby reached out a hand to touch Ziva's face, to check that she was real. Abby enveloped her in a large hug and Ziva allowed herself to relax in the woman's arms. Limply she reciprocated, her hands resting on the scientist's back. It was the first time in a long while that anyone had touched her without hurting her, there had been no such thing as human comfort in her Somalian life and she had missed it dearly. The love in Abby's hug was overwhelming, her head sank onto her shoulder, resting against her neck, staring into space. Tony tried to read Ziva but he couldn't her face was a blank bruised canvas, there was no discernible emotion other than perhaps exhaustion. He saw nothing but her physical self, her dark under eyes, her split and cracked lips, her tangled hair. She seemed hollow. The women held the embrace for such a length of time that people began to go back to work, and the applause ended giving them a slight impression of privacy. Gibbs stood up and tapped Abby on the shoulder and she awkwardly stepped away. Ziva looked up at him awaiting instructions, was she going to be debriefed?  
"Are you ready?" She looked at him blankly as he spoke. "For the hospital, you're going to Bethesda." he explained.  
"Oh," said Ziva understanding, "Let's go." There was no point in arguing, she didn't want to go but she couldn't imagine anyone listening to her if she tried to say no.

Once they reached the hospital she was already dead on her feet, it had been a long exhausting day and she hadn't been used to walking so much. Even though they had driven, the walk to the car park and then to the hospital reception had been painful. Gibbs and Ducky had accompanied her and she was sat on a chair waiting as they spoke to a Doctor at the front desk. After a few minutes Ducky gestured for her to come over and she followed them down a corridor into an examining room. They waited outside as the Doctor began to attend to her, she was glad that the Doctor had told them them to leave as Ziva didn't have the courage to speak at that moment and even more glad that it was a female Doctor. She slowly removed her clothes behind a screen to swap for a hospital robe and watched as one of the Nurses placed them in separate plastic bags. Were they evidence? First they took the photos, various rulers being held to each wound or scar. The camera covered every inch of her body and had it not been for the harrowing events of the previous month she would have felt exposed. Still, despite her experiences, she still hesitated when they asked to take a photo between her legs. They smeared a strange gel over the area with gloved hands, the Doctor explained that it was to reveal any abrasions around that area but she could barely listen as she tried not to flinch as her hand grazed over her most intimate of parts. She didn't understand the purpose, had Gibbs asked them to do this? Surely they knew what had happened, there didn't need to be proof, it wasn't as if it was a case that would go to trial. The perpetrators were dead. It felt like it took hours for them to collect the evidence, all she wanted to do was shower but they wouldn't allow her. They took her hair, blood, saliva, fingernail scrapings and various swabs from uncomfortable areas. After they were finally through with it two Nurses began to work at combing her hair out, the dust and debris fell into more plastic bags as they tackled the tangles. She didn't want to know what they would find in her hair if they examined it.

Finally she was allowed to shower, accompanied by a Nurse who waited outside politely after leading her to the bathroom. She fiddled with the knobs until she could bear the temperature of the water. The water pressure was weak but it still did the job. There were several bottles provided by the hospital, all of which were difficult to read with her tired eyes. Slowly she worked her hair through with shampoo whilst watching the disgusting color the water turned. The smell of the soap was so strong it almost made her feel sick but it was better than how she had smelt before. Perhaps it was a special soap they had given her, did they make extra strength cosmetic products for those who hadn't showered in months? Ziva felt stupid for thinking about such things but all she could focus on was the absurdity of her situation, she could almost see humor in it, and it nearly made it bearable. She bent over to work the gel down her legs lathering it to a foam and trying to avoid the still painful areas.  
"Ahh!" she cried out as she lost her balance, she fell hard against the shower wall.  
"Do you need any assistance?" the Nurse shouted through the door with concern in her voice.  
"No," Ziva replied, "I just slipped." She heard no reply and went back to showering, she tried to be fast but no amount of water made her feel clean. Even when the water finally ran clear, and empty of sand and dust, she still felt dirty and damaged. She stepped out and towelled herself dry whilst watching in the mirror. Her reflection was foreign to her, the broken appearance of herself was a stranger. She hadn't seen herself properly for a long time, except in a vague reflection of a murky bowl of brown water or a watery soup. For five minutes she stared at her naked body, it was plastered with cuts, burns and various other injuries. Her body had once been almost flawless, a seductive tool occasionally used for her line of work, but now her once blank canvas was painted with memories of pain.

After her shower she went for X-Rays and an MRI, she listened faintly as the Doctor spoke to Ducky about old breaks. Apparently they had healed well enough on their own and didn't need to be re-set. They then continued to talk about her malnutrition and dehydration, and how long she should stay in hospital. Gibbs fought her corner, clearly seeing her annoyance at the suggestion of staying there any longer than _absolutely_ necessary. After a long discussion it was decided she would stay overnight for observation and the situation would be reviewed in the morning. After this she was shuffled to yet another room, it felt like she was being given a tour of the hospital. In this room she sat with the same Doctor who attended to her more recent injuries that needed attention. The Doctor spent a long time talking about her various scars as she worked, applying a dressing to a large cut across her back she asked the cause of several of them. Some were self-explanatory, cigarette burns were clear in their mark, the whip marks were even more blatant but others were not so simply to explain. Ziva answered her questions as vaguely as she could.

"This cut on your leg is infected," the Doctor began, "see the redness and swelling? We can treat it easily with Antibiotics, but it is vital to keep it clean." Ziva nodded in reply as she continued talking, the last thing she wanted to be reminded of was her body. She hated it. She wished she could have left in Somalia, it wasn't her own anymore. It had been taken from her, violated, defiled beyond belief. She never wanted to see it again.

Finally she was given a room, a private room courtesy of NCIS she presumed. They had started her on an IV to replace lost fluids and she was glad to finally rest if only for five minutes before she was interrupted.  
"Hello Miss David, I'm Doctor Hanson your dietician." He was a young man, possibly only just qualified. His pale skin was a contrast against dark black hair and his body was clearly toned, he must practice what he preached Ziva thought as he was in very good shape.  
"Ziva, please." She replied feeling awkward at the formality. For a long time he stood looking at her file and medical history.  
"You've lost quite a bit of weight, in addition to nutrition," he began after a long silence, "We're going to give you supplements to be taken with food."  
"Okay…" What else could she say, she had no idea what her weight was at this point, she hadn't payed attention earlier.

"I'm going to be giving you a meal plan, your stomach is still very delicate and whilst we'd like to keep you on solid foods you need to be careful." Hanson said scribbling on his paper.  
"Yes." She nodded blankly.  
"You have multiple vitamin deficiencies..." She half wanted to say, well what do you expect? She tuned out and stopped listening to him, he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know. Watching as his mouth kept moving she heard no sound, slowly his lips faded from her vision and she remembered the meals she had been 'fed' on. Stale bread, watery soups, rotten vegetables. No wonder she was suffering from malnutrition. Vaguely she could hear him mumbling something about Vitamin D and he then continued to give a long list of things to avoid. Caffeine, alcohol, fatty foods, high amounts of sugar. Brilliant she thought sarcastically, on the drive to the hospital she had spent the time thinking about what she would do now she was back and free. The first thing that came to mind after a shower, was enjoying food. Not eating whatever there was because she was starved, but choosing food because it actually tasted pleasant. Now it appeared she couldn't even do that and would be on a strict diet. Brilliant...

She went back to laying alone in the bed after the dietician left, she pushed the button to lower the headrest and lay down finally to sleep. She hadn't slept in what felt like an eternity, every bone and muscle ached to be at rest and her eyes burned from being open. Finally she could relax and it felt glorious, she slipped in and out of slumber for a long time. It was impossible to sleep in the bed, it felt strange. There were too many pillows and the duvet and blankets felt like they were crushing her. She kept her eyes closed but lay awake frustrated as she heard the door open just as she had almost gotten back to sleep. Ziva pretended to still be out as somebody walked in, hoping they would see she was sleeping and leave. Instead she heard more footsteps continuing their conversation as they entered.  
"Twenty percent of her body is covered in scar tissue," it was the female Doctor from before whose name she never knew, "second-degree burns on her chest and arms, X-Rays show at least 4 fractures that never properly healed and 2 others that healed remarkably but even so considering-"  
"Has she said anything about what happened?" It was Gibbs who interrupted her.  
"No, she's barely said a thing." The Doctor replied quietly trying to encourage Gibbs to do the same, thinking she was asleep. "Agent Gibbs, you need to accept the possibility that the Ziva who left is the not the same one who came back." Gibbs said nothing as the Doctor turned to leave. She heard him take a seat and knew he was watching her intently, she pretended to toss in her sleep and turned her back to him.

"Duck, what do you think?" So Ducky was in the room also Ziva realised.  
"I think that her road to recovery will be a long and difficult one but I believe it's a challenge she can, and will, face." Ducky knew her well, after years of working with her, silently studying her.  
"You know what they do to people in those places Ducky," Gibbs said questioning how anyone could ever recover from months of that and brutal torture, "To women." He added. So he knew, Ziva thought, had he guessed or did the Doctors tell him? Gibbs put his head in his hands and breathed heavily.  
"If anybody can get through this it is Ziva." Ducky said convinced. Clearly he had more faith in her than she did herself. At this moment in time she didn't even know how she would make it till morning without breaking, she felt like fragile pieces of broken glass glued together that would only hold so long. Gibbs stared at her as she feigned sleep, she didn't look peaceful the way most people did when they were unconscious. Instead her eyes were ringed with dark circles, her skin blotchy and without color, and her face was in a constant expression of pain and exhaustion. He didn't know what he would do now, he wanted to help her, aid in her recovery but she wasn't an Agent anymore and he wasn't her Boss. Perhaps she would want to return to Israel and to Mossad, he'd hoped that she would come back to NCIS but not like this, never like this. If she did want to rejoin NCIS that would be a whole other problem to deal with, did he still trust her? After what Vance had told him about her order from Eli to terminate Ari he'd had many confusing thoughts about Ziva and where her allegiances lay. And then there was the problem of her mental and physical state. Did her ordeal in Somalia break her beyond repair? All these questions and more plagued his mind as he watched her 'sleep', none of them he spoke aloud to Ducky. Instead he settled on silence both of them looking at her with constant concern.

At some point she must have fallen asleep during Gibbs' and Ducky's visit because when she awoke it was morning and the sun shone through the thin curtains as a Nurse changed her IV bag. On the table beside her there were several tablets and a thick drink which she had no idea what it was perhaps some sort of nutritional smoothie. It tasted foul but she drank it only to have something to wash down the pills with. The tasted lingered in her throat and she reached for the jug of water to pour a glass. She groaned as he muscles pained her, they still ached whenever she moved and it came as a surprise when she first woke up.  
"Let me," the Nurse offered, "The Doctor is outside talking to your friends about you possibly being discharged today." She added as she poured the paper cup half full. There were several problems in that sentence, the first being the word 'friends'. Were they? Gibbs had left her in Israel and Ducky, well they had been friends when she worked at NCIS but she no longer did. Would they maintain that now she was back? She did not know. The word 'possibly' made her doubt that she would be leaving today but all the same she hoped. She sipped the water as the woman adjusted the drip and her nasal cannula. She didn't remember wearing one yesterday, they must have put it on whilst she was asleep, perhaps she hadn't been breathing well.  
"Good morning," the Doctor said cheerfully entering the room, "I have good news. Under Agent Gibbs' supervision we can discharge you today, but you need to attend a checkup in a few days, where we can also change your dressings, and follow the medications and meals plan that have been prescribed."  
"Supervision?" Ziva questioned confused.  
"He explained to me that you currently do not have a place to stay and would be staying with him for the time being, you will be released under his care." Great, she thought cynically, a babysitter. Gibbs as a babysitter was even worse, there was so much to address that neither of them would and she knew the entire time would be excruciating to endure.  
"I would rather find somewhere else to stay Doctor, I can find my own accommodation-"  
"With all due respect Miss David, the _only_ way I am allowing you to leave is under his or Doctor Mallard's supervision." Ziva shut up immediately, it was clear her opinion wasn't valid and at least Gibbs would try to psychoanalyze her like Ducky would.

The hospital had provided her with clothes, an oversized sweater and pants that would only stay up with the help of the plain black belt. The socks they'd given her were as uncomfortable and as scratchy as the underwear. It felt strange to be wearing clean clothes, they smelt heavily of fabric cleanser but it was better than her old clothes from Africa. She didn't know what had happened to those heavily soiled rags, they were covered with blood, sweat and other vile things. Once she had changed in privacy Gibbs came in and explained that Ducky had gone to work.  
"What time is it?" Ziva asked quietly whilst slipping on the boots Gibbs had provided for her in Ethiopia.  
"Five after ten," answered Gibbs, "I've signed you out so we can go now if you are ready."  
"I am ready." Ziva didn't have any belongings to take and Gibbs had her paperwork and medication in a bag he was holding. They left the hospital and emerged into the rain, Ziva smiled slightly feeling the water hitting her skin. She loved rain, always had, they rarely had it in Israel and never in Somalia. The smell of the rain mixing with the soft earth under her feet was indescribable. Gibbs held the passenger door open for her and she climbed in slowly, her quads aching as she sat down.  
"Are you okay?" he asked seeing her wince.  
"Fine," was all she said. "I am fine." She repeated as he raised an eyebrow. He nodded and walked round the car. The drive to his house was silent and uncomfortable, Gibbs stopped at a convenience store and she waited in the car as he didn't invite her. When they parked up outside his house he grabbed the shopping bag and her medications and they went inside.  
"I picked up some of the prescribed food on the meal plan for you, but now I have to get back to NCIS, unless you need me to stay?" She knew she couldn't say yes, so she just nodded and said she would be fine. She was always fine, Gibbs thought, when would she ever admit anything else? He felt bad about leaving her on her own but he made a point to write down his cell and show her his house phone in the kitchen.

Gibbs drove off quickly, ignoring the speed limit as always, as Ziva watched from the window. The moment he disappeared from sight she slumped down on the couch to sleep. She hadn't slept well at the hospital and the couch was somehow easier to collapse onto. There was already a pillow and a blanket, presumably Gibbs often slept there. She slept for hours without any dreams until suddenly the harrowing images began to enter her mind. First it was her cell, the view of the door from the corner she often curled herself up in, then it was the interrogation room she spent hours in screaming and finally him. Saleem. His cold dead eyes matched with an equally evil snarling smile as he brandished a sharp scalpel. In her nightmare she struggled against her restraints desperately trying to get away as he inched closer and closer. She didn't beg vocally but her eyes shouted for help. She tossed back and forth across the couch as she tried to move in her dream. Not again, she thought, please not again. Please no. She was so engrossed she didn't hear Gibbs open the door, she was still trapped in her mind. Gibbs saw her writhing on the couch, her face scrunched in an unmistakable expression of torment.  
"Ziva…" He said hesitant to reach out to her. "Ziva wake up." He leaned over slowly and shook her shoulder gently, she swung out with a loud cry just missing Gibbs' face. Suddenly her Somalian surroundings faded and she remembered where she was.  
"I am sorry, I didn't mean to- Gibbs I-" She couldn't form the words, her mind was still covered with a thick fog.  
"It was just a dream, you're home. You're safe. You're not there." He repeated this several times until she fully came round.  
"I know." She pushed his hand away when she noticed he has been slowly stroking her shoulder to comfort her. "I am fine Gibbs." Her voice turned sharp and Gibbs knew she was ashamed and he wouldn't push her further. She wasn't ready yet and that was okay.

"Have you eaten?" He asked walking to the kitchen. She shook her head before realising he couldn't see her.  
"N-no, I sat down to take a nap and then-no." Ziva said stopping herself before she began to babble.  
"The Doctor recommended you take your medication with meals so I'll make something now." explained Gibbs as he began to retrieve almost unused cooking items from his kitchen. It had been a long time since he had cooked a real meal. He scanned the meal plan for something appropriate for dinner and settled on the rice and chicken breast with steamed vegetables, it was simple enough and would take long to cook. Ziva offered to help but he brushed her off and told her to rest. She watched from the lounge as he shuffled around the kitchen trying to remember how to cook, he used to cook for Shannon and Kelly all the time but not in a long time. After their death he stopped taking care of himself, his meals became tinned or ordered over the phone, and his kitchen stopped being used except for the microwave. He diced the chicken and cooked it over the hob, whilst the rice was in another pot. Ziva sat back in the couch awkwardly wondering what to do, should she set the table? Did Gibbs ever eat at the table?  
"I'm just going to," she said standing up awkwardly, "wash up…" He nodded and pointed up the stairs to the bathroom. At the top of the stairs the door was ajar and she knew clearly where to go. She locked the door behind her hand leaned her hands on the counter looking in the mirror. She didn't look much better now than when she had seen herself at the hospital, her hair was dry now but frizzy and the dark circles remained despite her earlier nap. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, for some reason she was suddenly feeling anxious but she didn't know why. Her confusion only made her worse, and she could feel the room spinning. In a desperate attempt to regain normality she splashed cool water on her face to hide the blotchy redness from her tears and to wake her up out of her anxiety.

"Ziva?" Gibbs called from the bottom the stairs. "Everything okay up there?" She realised she must have taken a long time in the bathroom. She flushed the toilet to account for her time and dried her hands.  
"Fine, just finishing." She tried to shout back, but her voice barely carried. Her throat still burned of dust and sand.  
"Food is ready." replied Gibbs as she unlocked the door. Gripping the handrail for balance she headed down the stairs slowly, it appeared Gibbs had set the table. Well he'd put out cutlery and a glass of water for them both, but she was sure that for Gibbs it constituted setting the table. She sat down in silence as he placed a plate in front her carefully.  
"Thank you." She said out of obligation, she wasn't particularly thankful if she was honest with herself. She wished he didn't feel the need to take care of her, that he would treat her normally. The normal Gibbs would not cook for her.  
"It's not much, I don't really use the kitchen much these days." Gibbs replied brushing off her attempt at gratitude.  
"Gibbs," she began sincerely, "for the last few months I've been eating stale bread that was most likely sawdust and watered down soup that was almost certainly urinated in," she realised her mistake in her honesty and tried to get to the point quickly, "I'm sure your food will be delicious." Gibbs looked at her with pity, she couldn't see anything else in his hooded eyes. She had only been trying to explain that any food by comparison would be fine, but somehow she had ended up reminded him and herself of what had led her to that moment, sitting in his kitchen as she took a fork full of rice trying to not make eye contact. Every time she ate the food made her feel sick but she was determined to keep it down, she didn't need another excuse for Gibbs to feel sorry for her. She hated it, she hated him, well of course she didn't but in that moment it felt like it. He had left her in Israel, he had chosen Tony over her and abandoned her with her father. And now, there he was, looking at her with sympathy as if she were some broken victim who couldn't cope by herself and needed his help. He cooked for her, refused to let her help and coddled her like a weak helpless child. All she wanted to do was leave his house. She felt guilty for her anger and it only made it worse, yes, he had rescued her but did that automatically fix everything? Was she supposed to fall down in thanks and beg for _his_ forgiveness for asking him to choose between Tony and herself? It was all such a mess, she was full of so much anger and even though she knew why it didn't make her feel better. Anger, sadness, fear, all of the emotions mixed into a painful ball of stress in her stomach that felt like it would never go away. She'd once told herself, a long time ago, that somehow no matter what she would always retain her mind. Her sanity. Ziva had promised herself that no matter what her body might have to endure she would remain true to herself but it seemed she had failed herself yet again.


	9. Chapter Nine- Incineration

_Author's Note: I've given up on apologising for late chapters, I think we all need to accept that I cannot consistently update on a weekly basis. I'm working so much I just don't have the time I used to when I was a student writing instead of doing homework. Anyway I really hope you like it, and please review. The reviews are what motivate me to reach a deadline aha, I'd write this story even if no one read it but knowing you guys are waiting for the next chapter gives me speed. I genuinely love this story and I have no plans of ending it. I think it is also worth mentioning, it is a year since I began work on this story. Today in 2015 I made the document 'Somalia Plan' and then 'Time line' then 'Ziva Eli emails' (that will appear soon) then 'Possible titles' and before I knew it I had written 30,000+ words! How has it only been a year? Thank you all for reading and liking this story (and reviewing, hint hint)._

* * *

 **Chapter Nine- Incineration**

* * *

incineration

 _inˈsinəˌrāSH(ə)n_

 _verb_

destroy (something, especially waste material) by burning.

* * *

 _The naked bulb above her flickered, the only light source in the dark empty room. There was no sound to be heard, only silence and waiting. It was always cold in this room, she never knew why. It was even colder being unable to move, her arms were tied tight behind the chair with wire, and her legs shackled together behind the legs of her seat. She was sure the chair had intentionally been made uncomfortable, sharp jagged wood poked out from the back where it had clearly been broken. It dug into her, cutting at her flesh. Suddenly the door swung open and Saleem entered carrying something. What was it? It looked like a metal suitcase, but through her blurred vision she couldn't tell.  
_ _"This will make you talk." Saleem answers her silent question. He opens the case behind her and she twists her neck around trying to see, pulling at the bonds around her wrists. He walks around her holding some sort of control box, there are two buttons and a metal knob. Instantly she knows. Ziva pulls against her wrists trying to loosen the wire, anything to stop it from touching her skin. He clips on the connector. She feels her wrists begin to bleed as she tugs harder.  
_ _"You have one last chance to listen." He informs her speaking over a electrical crackle. "What do you know about NCIS?"  
_ _"Nothing." Ziva says firmly still twisting in the chair. He doesn't even look up from her. "Please I don't know anything about NCIS. I'm telling you the truth." The corner of his mouth lifts up in a small but cruel smirk and then it happens. With a small flick of his wrist turns the knob and the electrical current travels down the wires. For a second she is silent, choked by the pain and then erupts a guttural, uncontrollable scream. The shock only lasts a few seconds but the pain is excruciating, the agony travelling from nerve endings to nerve endings till her whole body is on fire. Sharp stabbing fire. Once it stops she tries to breathe, still crying out from the pain.  
_ _"Tell me about your people, who are you working with?" He stands in front of her looking down, with great struggle she lifts her head to meet his eyes which only convey pain and exhaustion. A small shake of her head is enough to send him back to the control box. He turns the knob to the second setting and Ziva knew that what she had experienced before was nothing. The only noise she could make was a blood curling, ear piercing scream, her voice so strangled it doesn't sound like her own. The pain is so intense she's sure it will kill her. Every inch of her body cries out as she spasms in the chair, choking on air. Then it stops._

Ziva awoke to noise from downstairs, Gibbs was up. She stretched her aching limbs and sat up. She still found it strange to wake up in a bed instead of on the floor. The cheap alarm clock flashed in red numbers at her, hurting her tired eyes, 5am. Sleep was impossible, she drifted in and out of consciousness but it was never restful. Her mind was filled with horrors that she couldn't escape and she awoke either drenched in sweat or screaming into her pillow. She rolled out of bed with a small groan and went downstairs to get a cup of water. Her hands still shook sometimes and she struggled to hold the glass steady as she took small sips. Gripping the cup with two hands she leaned against the counter trying to forget her nightmare and think of other things. There was nothing to think about. She was stuck in purgatory, not at home, not at work, doing nothing all day but 'resting' according to the Doctors. Ziva finally understood why Gibbs spent so much time at work, dealing with all the sorrow in his life was made bearable by keeping busy. Gibbs buried his grief in his work, and having no work, grief buried Ziva. She failed to hear the footsteps up from the basement and when Gibbs closed the door into the kitchen behind him she jumped. The glass fell to the ground and shattered into several large pieces bouncing on the tile floor.  
"I'm sorry." Ziva gasped. "Sorry...sorry. I didn't mean to-" She bent to her knees struggling to pick up the pieces.  
"Ziva it's fine." Gibbs said quietly watching her gather the pieces only to end up dropping them again, her hands were shaking violently and she kept muttering apologies. "Honestly let me get a dustpan and brush."  
"Okay." She stood up and realised her hand was bleeding, she hadn't even noticed she had cut herself until she the blood began to pool in her palm.  
"Oh Ziva…" Gibbs sighed when he saw the blood, Ziva looked down awkwardly. He hadn't meant to sound so exasperated but he was having difficulty in how to be there for her when she wasn't letting him. She wouldn't talk to him, or accept help but she so obviously needed it. Ziva heard his exasperation and assumed it was because he was tired of her staying with him, breaking things, waking him with her screams.

He turned on the kitchen tap and motioned for her to wash away the blood while he finished clearing the broken glass. When he came back he had a small bandage and she turned off the tap and held her hand out to take it from him.  
"No, no, let me." Her right hand had a large gash and he knew that with the combination of not being left handed and still shaking it would be easier. She turned her hand up and held it as steady as she could. Gibbs grabbed her wrist to try and hold it steady while he worked. He felt her tense and she pulled it back from him.  
"Sorry." She muttered trying to focus on watching him wrap around the dressing than the feeling of his strong hand holding her still.  
"Ziva, it is okay. It was an accident, and I have plenty of other glasses." That wasn't what she had apologised for. He wrapped the bandage round her hand and tucked it under one of the folds to hold it in place. "I have to go to work soon, will you be okay on your own?"  
"I'll be fine. Go." She replied rearranging the overly tight bandage.  
"I got you some of your things yesterday that were in your locker at work and your car. You're car is safe at the NCIS impound and I got you a new cell, my number is in there. " Gibbs said rooting around in the cupboard for a large bag. Inside was her wallet, her passport, her 'go-bag', her gym things and a cheap cell with a charger. She was glad that when they had gone to Israel she had not bothered to pack much because it would have been impossible to ask Eli to send them.  
"Thank you." She was so glad to have belongings again, things she could call her own instead of borrowing them from Gibbs.  
"Right, I'll leave you to it then." He grabbed his keys from the counter and headed for the door. The door slammed behind him and she was alone again.

She emptied the contents of the bag onto the living room floor to sort through it in the space around her. Slowly, trying not to cause herself pain, she bent down and sat cross legged on the rug. In her black duffel go-bag there were three sets of clean clothes and underwear, a pair of boots, a hairbrush, a small wash bag with deodorant and minimal makeup. After setting a set of clothes aside she put her passport and the cell charger in the go bag with her gym things. Her wallet had a small amount of cash, her cards, ID, and spare keys to her apartment and storage locker, she placed it neatly on top of the bag and went up to shower. As she always did after showering she stared at her body, seeing which bruises had faded and how the wounds were healing, she was almost starting to look normal, well under the circumstances. Once she was changed into her own clothes, and her hair tied up neatly she got ready to leave. She couldn't do it anymore, for one thing it was unfair on Gibbs. The last thing he needed was her. With the cash in her wallet she could get a bus into the city and then to a hotel or somewhere to stay. She grabbed the duffel bag and swung it around her shoulder, pocketed the phone and wallet and began to look for some pen and paper to leave a note for him. Finally after fifteen minutes of hunting she found a half blunt pencil and a large white space on an old paper. Gibbs, she began, Thank you for your hospitality over the last week, I appreciate it. I am going into the city to find somewhere to stay. Do not worry I will take the bus to my Doctors appointments I need to be doing things for myself, and whilst you have been very helpful, I cannot be here anymore. Thank you for all you have done, Ziva.

She left the note neatly placed on the kitchen table and left for the bus stop, locking the door behind her. What she had written had been true, but she also couldn't stand how Gibbs made her feel incapable. He hadn't been smothering her, but he also hadn't given her much freedom. He had cooked for her, bought her toiletries, taken her to her appointments and refused her to go herself by the bus. She wasn't a child or an invalid and would not be treated like one anymore. If she was ever going to get back to normal she needed to regain her independence and be by herself. On the bus she sat by herself at the back and stared out the window, watching everybody live their lives. A mother pushing her baby while waving a soft toy in its crying face, a man clearly late for work stumbling whilst trying to balance his coffee, briefcase, and cell phone, and so many more. How easy it would be to be one of them. She had planned to get off near the centre but somehow found herself departing at Silver Springs, near her apartment. Her old apartment. She looked up at the red brick building, there was still a little bit of visible scorching near the window frames. The stairs were more tiring than she'd remembered, at the top she sat down for a moment to catch her breath when one of her neighbours walked past.  
"Ziva?" they asked shocked. She looked up to see Jordan, the man who lived across the hall from her, she'd never really spent much time with him but they often nodded in the hallways.  
"Hey," Ziva replied quietly standing up.  
"You moving back here? Cos'...well Matt hasn't actually started on your apartment, I don't even think anyone has been in…." Jordan babbled awkwardly before making a quick exit. She followed up the stairs and watched him close the doors behind him.

She ripped the yellow X from across the door and pushed it open throwing the crime scene tape on the floor. Destruction was everywhere, she hadn't seen it after Mossad 'dealt' with it and she was blown away, much like her apartment had been. Everything in sight was blackened. There would be nothing to save. Her kitchen provided a reference point as some of the appliances were still there, broken beyond repair, but recognisable nonetheless. On the floor she saw burnt fabric, likely from her sofa, and an shattered electrical echo of her television set. The only parts of her TV that had survived were the glass, and some wires. Next to it she spotted the photo frame, it was still in one piece, but the picture had gone. Ziva collapsed to her knees and started searching, it was the last copy of her picture of Tali and Ari she had left. She had to find it. Her hands became black with soot and dust, and her bandage turned grey. After an hour of rummaging through the rubble she finally came across a scrap of paper. It was burnt and curled at the edges, but still there. The fire had scorched away most of the bottom of the photo, but their smiling faces were untouched. It was the same as one she had taken on the Damocles with her and hung in her quarters, most likely disintegrated at the bottom of the ocean now. Her father also had a copy, framed on his desk at Mossad. Did he still keep it there, she wondered. Would he look at it and remembered he'd sent her to her death? Suddenly she realised what she'd been trying to ignore. Eli knew by now. He had to.

Feeling overwhelmed she shoved the scrap of paper in her pocket and left her old home, she climbed more stairs until she found herself on the top of her apartment block having gone through the fire exit. She paced back and forth trying to think, the dark clouds were heavy on her mind and when this happened it became impossible. Dizziness descended and she sat down on the ledge with her back to the street. Eli knew she was alive. He knew everything, and by now word of NCIS's rescue would have reached him. Had he tried to contact her? No, Gibbs would have said. Wouldn't he? Her head was swimming with all the possibilities. She wondered if he would ever apologise, or even if he would contact her. She had spent so long thinking about what he had thought in Somalia, thinking she was dead. Now she thought about what he would do with the information that she was alive. He might not even care. He'd always treated her like any other Mossad agent, a tool for him to use however he liked. If anything he was probably more angered that NCIS had rescued her, and that Mossad hadn't because now Mossad would look bad for leaving one of their own. It would have been better for him and for Mossad if she had just stayed dead. It would be a lot easier for everyone if she was dead. How far was it to the ground? Ziva looked down off the ledge onto the street below, she tried to focus on the distance. It was one of the things her Doctor had told her to do when her vision blurred, 'pick a point, far away, focus on it and then pick another point.' Repeat until sane. He didn't say the last part but Ziva knew what a coping mechanisms were, he had given her loads despite her not disclosing her need for them. She knew she should be honest with them but it was nobody's business but hers.

Gibbs called his house phone multiple times but there was no answer. After the seventh ring out he began to grow worried. He pulled the scrap of paper with Ziva's new cell number, he punched in the numbers with clumsy fingers and pressed dial. Straight to the answer phone.  
"I'll be back in a bit." He announced standing up from his desk, Tony and McGee murmured replies and Gibbs took off striding to the elevator. Tony stood up and walked over to Tim's desk.  
"You know what's up with boss?" He asked perching on the edge of his coworkers desk.  
"Does anyone ever?" replied McGee semi-sarcastically. "I can pull his call log…"  
"Don't just talk about it McGeek then." Tony chuckled at his nickname and watched as McGee loaded up the list on his computer.  
"Seven calls to his house line, and one to an unlisted cell phone." He said typing away at the keyboard, watching the list on his screen shrink and disappear.  
"He must be calling Ziva." Tony said quietly. "Has boss said anything about how she is to you?"  
"No, she's alright though? I mean it's Ziva."  
"Has she spoken to you?" McGee shook his head and Tony went back to his desk and pretending to work. Meanwhile Gibbs pulled up outside his house and rushed inside.  
"Ziva? Ziva!" He shouted loudly his voice echoing around his house. He noticed the handwritten note left by his former lodger and began to read. He sighed heavily and crumpled the piece of paper in his hand. He pulled out his cell ready to try calling her again when the device began to ring. He picked up fast and grunted into the phone.  
"Gibbs."  
"Hey Gibbs...it's Ziva." Her voice on the phone was quiet and awkward. "I'm staying at Bethesda Naval Lodge."  
"You could've stayed here Zee." Gibbs sighed and ran his hand through his thin silver wisps.  
"I know." Ziva could hear his heavy breathing and frustration over the line. "Look I'm fine Gibbs. I just need time on my own."  
"I would have helped you find somewhere. You didn't have to leave so suddenly." Ziva muttered a response and sighed. She thanked him quietly and hung up before he could protest.

In her room at the Navy Lodge she had unpacked what little she owned in the small closet space and was sitting down on the bed, constantly smoothing over the bed sheet before scrunching it in her fists and smoothing it again. She lay down exhausted from the day and tried her best to stay awake. It had gotten to the point where she was too afraid to sleep for the fear of one more nightmare. It would never leave her. All she could feel was pain and anguish, both physically and emotionally. She'd fantasised so many times about freedom, about being home again and again but it was not how she had pictured it. Even on the plane she had dreamt of tasty food, hot showers, a real bed, the freedom to go outside and sit with the sun shining down on her face. Now she could only eat bland food from a Doctor's list, the hot water burned her skin and pained her scars. The soft bed was the one she woke up screaming and crying in, the sun she had pictured scorched her eyes and the mere act of going outside was a battle against fatigue. Would she always be in so much exhausted pain? Probably, she thought bleakly. She propped her head up on the pillow and closed her eyes. She felt bad for Gibbs, he'd been trying so hard but it was just too much. The first time she'd had night terrors has been awful, made worse by his concern causing only embarrassment. When she winced, or even breathed he would ask about what the Doctors had said about it. She'd tried to make a coffee and he'd 'gently' reminded her about the caffeine content, and replaced it with a Decaf one for her. It was too intense, so unlike Gibbs it made her uncomfortable, being babied by anyone would have, let alone her boss. Her old boss, she reminded herself.

Gibbs stared at his watch, no open cases meant paperwork. Long, tedious, excruciating desk work and there was only so much he could delegate to the others. The second hand ticked slowly around the face, the seconds became minutes, the minutes became hours until finally-  
"-I'm off," he announced standing up from his desk. Tony and McGee watched in awe as he entered the lift.  
"Boss never leaves before us…" Tony muttered suspiciously.  
"You think it has to do with Ziva?" McGee said voicing the obvious thought that had occurred to both of them. The phone calls from earlier only made it more clear.  
"Yeah," Tony started, "but it's not our business."  
"Tony, are you ever going to tell her?" McGee said in a low tone looking around as though it were a secret. "That it was you who-"  
"Oh yeah McGee I can just see that conversation going brilliantly," he exclaimed sarcastically, "Hey Zee, how is the recovery going? Good? Great. So yeah, about Somalia. Yeah it was me who rescued you from the 'situation' I put you in." His voice was sharp and he added air quotes to his 'situation' to emphasise his sarcasm. McGee knew he was just trying to mask his emotions.  
"It wasn't your fault."  
"I killed Rivkin, she went to Israel. She stayed and Eli sent her there. It all comes back to me Tim…" Tony admitted glumly looking down at his shoes.  
"It wasn't your-"  
"-No. But it still is somehow." Tony swung his backpack over his shoulder and retrieved his gun and creds from the desk drawer. "See you tomorrow." He added quietly before heading to the elevator in thoughtful silence. McGee knew he needed space so despite being ready he gave Tony the time he needed and let him leave alone.

Whilst Tony sat alone drinking beer in his apartment, Gibbs went to the Navy Lodge. It took a while to find out which room was Ziva's but after shoving his badge inches from the receptionists face things moved a lot faster. He was handing a key and walked down the hall, despite having a key he knocked first. Ziva jumped from inside the room at the hard knock amplified by the wood and stood up, her breathing aided by adrenaline. She hadn't expected to see Gibbs when she opened the door and it caught her off guard enough that Gibbs could invite himself in. He scanned the room, it was small, too small. Ziva had felt the same about it which is why she left the inside doors and the windows wide open to create the illusion of space.  
"Gibbs, why are you here?" She asked in an accusing tone.  
"Wanted to see how you were," gruffed Gibbs in reply as Ziva walked to sit on a chair in the minute living space. Gibbs remained standing looking down on her as she tried to find a comfortable position.  
"I am fine." Taking a deep breath she put on her most convincing smile, not too much or he wouldn't believe it but a smile that conveyed 'I'm doing much better'. He wasn't fooled.  
"Ziva you shouldn't be alone." He sighed in frustration at her independance. "The doctors said-"  
"-that once I felt well enough I would be able to carry on as normal. It is not normal to be staying in your guest room Gibbs."  
"I came for another reason also," he added as he pulled the file from under his arm. "Both Tony and McGee have given their reports on the Somalia mission, I need a statement from you to file it." He held out the piece of paper that detailed what she would need to include, at the top in large capital letters: WITNESS STATEMENT.

"As a witness?" She asked in disbelief, she knew it wouldn't be as an Agent but she'd thought it would be as an Officer of a foreign agency.  
"Since the mission was not co-ordinated by Mossad, and your retrieval was not the intention or focus of the mission Vance has determined that a witness statement would be more appropriate." He spoke so formally, Ziva thought, and detached.  
"I'll have it to you by tomorrow," she announced standing up ready to show him the door.  
"Take your time." Ziva held the door open for him and stood by it waiting. He showed no signs of wanting to leave yet. "Ziva I'm only a phone call away." Ziva nodded in response and looked at him and then the door, a not so subtle hint. Gibbs sighed once more before leaving and she closed the door quietly behind him. She looked down at the piece of paper, it was simple really, she'd written hundreds of reports through her time at NCIS and Mossad. However this time, the reason she needed the instruction, she was a witness. It required being typed which posed a challenge, she didn't have a laptop anymore, or the freedom to use the computers at NCIS. At reception she got directions to the internet cafe. It was almost nine at night and it was very dark, the sidewalk had street lights but even so she felt her heartbeat quicken each time a person passed her. She heard loud deep shouts from several men at a bar across the street and suddenly she found herself in an alley hunched down clutching her knees against the wall struggling to breathe.

"Hey?" A concerned voice said, Ziva didn't hear it with her hands clasped over her ears. "Do you need me to call someone?" His kind hand stretched out to help her up from the ground but Ziva immediately recoiled and shoved her head between her legs in a defensive position. The man sat down in front of her with his legs crossed not caring for the dirt on the ground.  
"I'm not going to hurt you. Did someone hurt you?" The samaritans voice was calm and even and slowly it brought Ziva back to reality. Shouts and screams from Somalia faded and the dust lifted from the air and turned into the chill of the cool night. "I just want to help. I can call the police for you? Or an ambulance?" Ziva couldn't yet speak but she shook her head, still not yet seeing her stranger.  
"You'll be okay. Whatever is wrong, it will be okay." His voice was soothing and she used it to ground herself. Slowly she lifted her head and saw that it was the bouncer from the bar that had been throwing the men out of the bar. He was big with broad shoulders and his bald head sported a dragon tattoo that went from above his left ear and down towards his neck.  
"You-" Ziva said quietly, "You don't ne-need to call anyone. I just need a minute. I f-felt dizzy and just needed to sit- sit down."  
"It's okay you don't have to tell me." He said assuring her that he only wanted to help and not to intrude. "Do you feel okay to stand up?" Once again he offered his hand but Ziva pushed herself up by herself feeling too anxious to accept his help. When the man was stood up his towered over her, no wonder he chose to work as a bouncer his physical stature was intense. She looked up towards his face and made eye contact for the first time and instantly she no longer felt threatened. He had unmistakably kind eyes, like Haroon's. His smile was soft and sympathetic and he intentionally put space between them. The man radiated empathy and compassion.  
"I'm Jack." He looked at her waiting.  
"Ziva." She tried to smile to convey her thanks but it didn't happen. "Thank you. I'm okay now."  
"Where you headed?" Jack asked.  
"The cafe down- down the street. I should get going…" Awkwardly she began to leave internally regretting the entire encounter.  
"Want some company? I can walk you there if you want." Once again his voice softened and against all of her training and experience she nodded thanking him again.

It was only a few minutes to the cafe and Ziva wanted to walk them in silence but Jack seemed to be a very talkative and friendly person. Each attempt at small talk was met with an awkward response from her, until he realised it was easier for him to just carry the conversation on his own.  
"-so after I left the Army I decided to go into private security, I worked as a bodyguard for a few years before working at the bar. It's an...interesting job. One of the things I've realised though, through all the people I meet is that there are more good than bad. Yeah, okay, I get some rowdy guys but most of them are nice guys. I get to meet some great people." Ziva nodded when he paused and he smiled at her as they reached the cafe.  
"Thank you, for your help. I think you are one of those great people you talked about."  
"Oh so you were listening?" Jack joked smirking at her. "Kidding, you know if you ever want a friend, or a bodyguard" he winked, "give me a call." Ziva took his card, Jack Berry Private Security.  
"Berry?" He chuckled and she finally cracked a smile.  
"Believe me I've heard all the jokes. Most of the time I insist it's pronounced 'Beret'."  
"It was nice to meet you. Thank you." Jack agreed and waved his goodbyes. She watched him leave and contemplated on what had just happened. After a moment Ziva pocketed his card and went inside. The artificial light was harsh on her eyes, and the place looked depressingly basic. The two computers were probably a decade old, if not more and the jar of coffee had probably been there a while. She still bought one and a donut to go with it. Damn the doctors, she thought as she sipped the glorious taste. It burnt her throat but she didn't care, it felt like heaven to drink something other than water or soup.


End file.
